


insecure again, dangerous again

by white_silence



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bonding Moments, Character Death, College AU, Drug Use, EDIT for 2018: this was plotted and written when it was not revealed that shiro was gay, Emotions, F/M, Fluff, Gang AU, Guns, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Indian!Human!Allura, Korean!Keith, M/M, Multi, Past Shiro/Matt, Underage Drinking, Violence, aight bc i plotted this all the way thru and wrote more chaps i need to add shit, aka shirt lol can you imagine walking up to someone and saying your otp is shirt, altea is in the US in the mountain timezone idk i'm tired, but basically i get my hands on your faves and destroy them i'm so sorry, but dw there's cute shit too, i'll shut up now, idk how i keep forgetting to add this but, it's not major so i won't use the main tag, no i'm not, okay bruh i said i wasn't gonna do this but then i did, please keep that in mind before going off, yes the title is a bts reference i hate myself too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2018-08-07 08:15:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 50,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7707613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_silence/pseuds/white_silence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lance paused, considered, and then right under the grocery list, jotted down another memo.</p><p>  <em>Note to self: don't fall for insufferable mullet dudes with motorcycle jackets.</em><br/>-<br/>Or: in which a struggling brother working customer service falls for the guy who may or may not be in the biggest gang in the region.</p><p>[ON HIATUS WHILE AUTHOR IS IN EUROPE]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> Um. Hi.
> 
> Some of you are undoubtedly saying, "What are you doing? You just put a fic on hiatus, and your bitch ass is here?"
> 
> Well, yeah! Voltron is ruining my life, man, why not? And also, the reason HFU went on hiatus doesn't impact this. I'm lying in wait for something. But I digress! Here's a gang AU.
> 
> Some things to expect: violence, drug use, alcohol use, abuse, PTSD, me injuring all your faves. If someone needs me to update the tags, I will! But there's a picture of what you're getting into.
> 
> I'm planning weekly updates. We'll see how that goes.
> 
> Well, enjoy?
> 
> Oops, I almost forgot! Pidge uses she/her pronouns in this, but Lance is really slow on the uptake once more, so he'll be using he/his pronouns until he gets his life together.

Keith was in the middle of swishing his fourth shot of soju around his glass when the call came.

He startled violently at the unholy, loud buzzing his phone emitted, splashing half the alcohol down his shirt. Groaning, the black haired boy groped for the phone in an attempt to turn it off, but he blanched and hurriedly swiped right to accept the call when he actually read the screen. The ID read “Crazy Taser Chick,” and as one could guess from such a name, she wasn’t one to keep waiting.

“Pidge, it’s three in the fucking morning in Seoul. What do you want?” He irked out, putting his glass aside.

“Don’t pretend you weren’t up drinking anyway, you goddamn alcoholic; I can smell that cheap ass soju through the phone,” the girl snapped. “I need you to get your ass back to America.”

Keith frowned, wedging his phone between his ear and shoulder. “What? Why? I thought you didn’t need me until the school year started.”

She half sighed, half growled through the phone, making a sound like crackling static. The tall boy could picture her face twisting in irritation. “Fucking Galra are at it again. Running on our goddamn territory.”

His own mouth curled into a sneer. “You can’t chase them off without me? Really, Pidgeon?”

“Do not start with the bird jokes,” Pidge warned. “You know they’re all scared of you, right? Scared of Crazy Red, the insane kid with the baseball bat and no goddamn sense of self preservation. Whatever they think. It’d be nice to have you here.”

Shuffling around his hotel room and gathering clothes, Keith silently asked any listening gods what he had done to deserve this. He didn’t ask for an eighteen year old drug lord – drug lady? – and gang leader to be busting his ass like 24/7.

“Why couldn’t this have waited?” he grumbled. “I was going to a concert tomorrow.”  
  
“The Galra don’t wait for underground rap shows in seedy bars! See you soon!” the girl chirped into the phone. A dial tone sounded right after she finished her sentence.

Keith walked over to the wall and banged his head against it a few times, regretting majority of his life decisions. The ahjumma in the next room yelled at him to shut the hell up.

 

* * *

 

He mournfully watched the hazy lights of his home city disappear only a few hours later.

Quite frankly, Keith wasn’t expecting this summer trip to be too much of a vacation. Hunk had been sending him data on the finances, and as per usual, he’d been redoing and redoing them. Being high up in a gang like Green Lion wasn’t exactly easy or glamorous, although he did have quite a bit of money to show for it.

And bullet wounds, but those were all different stories.

The grey-eyed boy rested his head against the plush seat back and fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

Back in the US, a very different boy was wide awake and scurrying around in panic.

“No, shit, dammit – I overslept, where are my keys, goddamn  _keys_ —”

Finally, he located them halfway underneath the cheap green couch cushion, and then he was off. He stumbled down the steps, made it to his shitty ‘97 Altima, and hopped in.

Lance McClain had willingly made a lot of dumb decisions in his life, such as jumping into the deep end when he couldn’t swim and asking out a popular senior girl in his first week of freshman year. But even he knew being late to a new job on the first day was utterly stupid.

Yet here he was, about to be late for the 1:00 PM shift at the Arusian Cafe.

“Why am I like thissss?” the blue-eyed boy sang to himself as he sped down the street. He’d successfully completed his other duties, like taking his six year old brother Jamie to kindergarten on time. And then he’d come right back home and fallen asleep for forty minutes, like a  _dumbass_.

Thankfully, Lance’s blatant disregard for traffic rules and speed limit signs came in handy; he was a few minutes early. He swept in and rushed to the back, hurriedly greeting his co-workers and a few customers on his way.

“Here, Lance,” his boss chirped, shoving a tray into his hands the second after he had slipped on an apron and clocked in. “Take that to table eleven. And please don’t spill it! They’re very loyal customers!”

Lance grumbled to himself as he took the tray to the duo. “What does he think I am, a three year old? I can handle a little tray…”

When he neared, the brown haired waiter caught a snippet of the customers’ conversation.

“So, Keith should be coming back,” the boy on the left said, idly poking at his phone. “If he isn’t, I will fly to Seoul and kick his mullet wearing ass.”

“Honestly, I’m surprised he agreed on such short notice,” his companion replied. “I know that trip was important to him. I think he was visiting Are-”

Lance felt bad for interrupting their ultra-important talk, but he had to deliver the food and get on with his sorry life. “Excuse me, here’s your order.”

“Oh, thanks!” the smaller boy answered, not even making eye contact with Lance. He plucked the tray from Lance’s hands, set it between him and his friend, and continued right on with his conversation. “I do feel bad about it, but A) we have a _problem_ , and B) I do kinda miss him. He’s been gone two months, and I have no one else competent enough to spar with.”

Lance frowned at the two and bustled off to continue his work. He was balling on a budget already; no need to put off earning money.

 

* * *

 

When Keith landed in Altea’s international airport 13 hours later, he was nothing if not exhausted and irritable. He swore he would kick Pidge’s ass for this… the second he found her, anyway.

Stumbling off from baggage claim and to arrivals, the grey-eyed boy rubbed at his face. He was tired and a little hungover, dammit, why couldn’t he have slept longer on his shitty flight?

“If Pidge isn’t here, or if she didn’t send someone else to pick me up, I will lose my mind. That will be it; that’ll be the last straw,” Keith mumbled to himself. People gave him odd looks as he made his way forward, beaten up red suitcase sadly tripping along behind him. He didn’t really give a damn, though.

Thankfully, he spotted a sign in the crowd of people that had no name or welcome on it. The only design decorating the white posterboard was a red lion’s paw print.

“There is a god in this forsaken world!” Keith cheered weakly as he rushed toward the sign. Two men in suits had been holding it up, each with a green lion stitched into their right sleeves.

“Kim-ssi,” one greeted, lowering the sign and folding it up. “How was your flight?”  
  
“Too long.” The boy grumbled. He then shook his head to cut off any further conversation.

They took the hint, ushering him out of the airport and to a limo, where he piled his luggage in and started making his way home. As the driver sped down the highway, Keith pulled out his phone and sent a text to his boss.

**i’m back. u better be happy, sparky**

He got a smiling cat emoji in response.


	2. so bad, us, yeah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and Keith finally see each other, and Pidge brokers a deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *flies in*
> 
> Hey! Here I am, on time with an update for once in my life. I actually had this ready to post on Friday, but I waited for the scheduled day. Shoutout to my betas, NamelessThunderhead and starryeyyyed, for getting this to me so quickly!
> 
> In other news, this is the longest chapter I've ever written for anything, topping out at over 3000 words. I'm proud of me. I've put more effort into this fic than I have for essays and debate cases.
> 
> Thank you so, so much for 50 kudos on chapter 1! That's the most I've gotten for any debut chapter. I hope you continue to enjoy iada. I'll shut up now~
> 
> CW for this chapter: Drug mentions and use.

Lance's next shift was from seven to eleven in the morning, and it was an understatement to say he was less than pleased with the hours. He groused to himself while he brushed his teeth, then quickly threw on his uniform and placed a gentle kiss atop his sleeping brother’s forehead before dashing out.

 _God, why did I agree to a job with weird shifts like this?_ Lance bemoaned, thinking of all the sleep he was missing out on. Of course, he knew the answer- it was so he could pick up and drop Jamie off at afternoon kindergarten, which ran from twelve to three. He’d only worked two hours yesterday because he’d had to rush to his baby brother, and his boss had decided to just give him mornings and evenings. In a way, he was grateful. He could manage to care for his brother and keep a steady job now, but god, waking up that early was going to give him awful dark circles.

“Morning!” he said brightly when he arrived at the cafe, not letting anyone know how he felt. It was a talent of his.

“Hey,” one of his co-workers, a tall, shy girl named Shay, answered. She played with one of her hoop earrings absentmindedly as he swept behind the counter and started helping her take orders. At this time, most people were just grabbing coffee and tea to go, so only a few tables were occupied. One of said tables was taken up by the pair from yesterday, the tiny boy with wild brown hair and the burly one with the obnoxious yellow shirts. Another hosted an annoyed looking woman who glared at the tiles like they had done her a great disservice.

“Take this to table five!” the baker called, disrupting Lance’s thoughts. He was waved away by Shay, and so ended up taking the order to the table where the boys were yet again engrossed in conversation.

“And I swear, this fuckin' harpy, she tells me she had no idea what the free download was for, and I’m staring at this screen telling me she has 2525 viruses because of this ‘free download.’ I regretted my life choices that day, man, I really did. Why did I decide helping people like that was a good way to get extra money?” the brown-haired boy groaned, digging his face into his palms in frustration.

“Here’s your coffee and muffins,” Lance piped up, not wanting to sit through another one of their spiels. This time, the short boy glanced at him, and Lance winced inwardly when he noticed his bloodshot gold eyes. He really needed that coffee, it seemed.

The other, meanwhile, outright stared at the waiter. Lance self consciously glanced at his reflection in the window. Was there something on his face?

“Sorry, but… are you Lance? Lance McClain?” he finally asked, dark brown gaze boring into Lance.

“Yes…? What does that have to do with your muffins?” Lance snarked, wondering who the hell this guy was, and how he knew his name. He did seem vaguely familiar, and not at all in a bad way.

“Dude! You forgot about me!” the customer exclaimed. “It’s Hunk, remember, from high school? You totally went AWOL after 11th grade; I thought you died or something.”

Lance was utterly confused until he remembered an event from freshman year. The day after the pretty senior girl had rejected him, another freshman bounded up to him, told him he was really brave, and decided to befriend him. Over the next three years, he’d grown to be Lance’s best friend.

And then the Incident happened. Then he’d taken Jamie and run like hell, all the way across the state, never once looking back.

And he’d left behind Hunk Kahele, one of the few decent people he’d ever known.

“No way, Hunk! Dude!” Lance cried, quickly throwing his arms around the larger boy. “I remember, yeah, yeah. You were my best bro! How have you been? And who’s your friend?”

Hunk laughed and returned the embrace. “Really tired, college and... other work has been kicking my ass.” He then turned to his partner, who was inhaling muffins as quickly as he could. “And that’s Pidge.”

“Hi, I’m Pidge Gunderson,” the bespectacled boy introduced around a mouthful of baked goods. “And before you ask, no, not like the Pokemon. For your own sake, _never_ call me a Pidgey.”

Lance was about to respond when he heard an enraged tirade spewing behind him. He sighed heavily (pissy customers weren't uncommon, but they were still a hassle), and turned around to see the angry woman from before furiously berating Shay, who looked like she was on the verge of tears. She anxiously twisted a towel in her hands as the customer began demanding to talk to a manager.

“Never in my life have I had such a bland scone! What kind of cafe is this? Your owner needs to fire this incompetent baker immediately-”

The waiter had heard enough. He marched over to stand beside Shay, ready to back her up, when Pidge stormed right past them and kicked an empty chair. She instantly stopped screeching at Shay, instead turning her attention to Pidge. He wore an impressive scowl on his face and met her gaze without flinching.

“Listen, lady,” Pidge growled, placing his hand on the table and leaning in. “It is 7:32 in the fucking morning. I have somewhere to be at 8 AM. I have not had my coffee, and you are screaming like a fucking banshee. At an innocent waiter. At- and I’m reiterating!- 7 GODDAMN AM. If you don’t shut the actual fuck up and get over your order having one too few blueberries—” now he narrowed his eyes and glared at the woman over his glasses, “—I swear that scone will be the least of your worries.”

The woman gaped helplessly, looking terrified for her life. Pidge, meanwhile, turned on his heel and swept back to his table. Hunk looked both fearful and proud at the same time, Lance thanked any god out there that he wasn’t yet on Pidge’s bad side, and someone who had just entered the shop laughed lightly.

Hunk started and hurriedly turned toward the door. “Keith?!”

Lance looked up from gently escorting Shay into the back room to see one of the most gorgeous people he’d ever been blessed to look at leaning on the doorway, hiding his snickers behind a cupped hand.

 

* * *

 

Keith hadn’t exactly woken up in the greatest mood, but now he was pretty amused. Seeing someone as small as Pidge yelling at people or beating them up was always a great experience. There was a lot of rage contained in the tiny girl’s body, after all; it happened rather frequently.

“Nice to see you too, Pidgeon,” he teased, making his way over to her table and nudging her. She looked up at him and attempted to smile past the cup of coffee she was chugging.

“Keith,” Pidge cheered after she finished, standing up to hug him. Hunk bounded over to them with a grin on his face and enveloped them both in his arms. Pidge whined and muttered something about her arms being too short to hug them both, but it was muffled by Keith’s motorcycle jacket.

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, gently untangling himself from his friends. “Nice to see you too.”

“Sit with us for a bit,” the gold-eyed girl coerced. “I have to go to a table with the supplier at eight, which is why I’m trying to drink all this coffee. I need some type of energy to deal with Rolo’s BS, especially if that witch Nyma shows up.”

“For what?” Keith asked, taking a chair from the table nearby and sitting with them. “And this early in the morning? What the hell is wrong with him?”

“New drug, apparently,” she replied, leaning closer with an unnatural gleam in her eye. “It’s been tested, don’t worry. I just need to see if it’s worth having our runners take it around.”

Then she sighed, fingertip tracing the rim of her cup, and answered his second and third question. “Apparently, the asshole has some other meetings today. This is the only time he can make it, otherwise we won't be able to move it.”

“That jackass… What’s the drug like, though?” he questioned as he sneakily took one of the duo’s muffins. Already he was slipping right into the business mindset, despite having barely been back for a day.

Pidge pulled up an encrypted email on her phone and quietly read details to him. “It’s this fairly tasteless green goo, causes some pretty trippy hallucinations. Almost like fantasies, hence its prototype name, Fantasia. Alteans came up with it, too.” She looked over her shoulder and frowned, quickly shoving her phone down her shirt. “Shit, your friend’s coming, Hunk.”

Keith turned to his left to see the tall waiter who’d consoled the victim of that lady’s rage walking toward them, and he promptly forgot whatever he was going to say.

Provided he swapped his exhausted frown out for a smile and walked with a little more confidence, the waiter would probably be really attractive. His deep blue eyes contrasted nicely with his tanned skin, and his dark brown hair was definitely well taken care of. In fact, Keith found him attractive even now, when he looked ready to hide away from the world under a blanket.

“Thank you for that, seriously. Shay was on the verge of a breakdown,” the employee said with a sigh.

“No problem,” Pidge responded. “That lady was a bitch. Customer service workers get enough shit without having to deal with stuff like that.”

“It’s more like that is the shit we deal with,” he replied. “Hey, Hunk, text me later, okay? My number’s the same; I just got a new phone.”

“Alright! It was nice seeing you again- take care, okay? I have even more recipes to test out on you now,” Hunk crowed. “You’re gonna be blown away by my improved conchas.”

Now the waiter smiled, and Keith actually had to take a minute. That smile basically forced him to think of all the cheesy metaphors- bright like the sun, cheering up a room by itself; it was just… nice to see. The gang member almost felt blessed.

“See you guys,” the waiter hummed as he walked off. “You too, um. Mullet dude.”

Keith frowned and touched his hair incredulously. Was there something wrong with it? While he was contemplating hairstyles, Pidge pulled her phone back out of her shirt and checked the time. She swore and hastily got to her feet, motioning to the boys to follow along.

“We can’t be late to this, shit. Keith, we were gonna call for a car, but I don’t think there’s time now. It’s 7:50. Can we take your bike?”

“Pidge, have you, like… looked at my bike? It is not built for three people,” he retorted, walking his companions out to the curb. His red motorcycle sat there innocently, proving his point without saying a word.

“Ugh,” the girl grumbled. “Fine, then I’ll go with you. Sorry, Hunk. I woke you up for nothing.”

“No problem, boss,” Hunk reassured. “I’m gonna go fix the oven; someone messed it up pretty bad. Don’t die on me.”

“I’ll try to refrain,” came her wry reply. “Let’s go, Keith. I’ll give you directions on the way.”

 

* * *

 

By the time they got to the “venue,” a shithole of a motel so far out of the way no other buildings were in the vicinity, two other men from Green Lion were waiting for them outside. They both sported Beretta 92A1's that rested comfortably in holsters at the hip. Keith knew that there was another Lion by their car and one more stationed as a lookout in the vicinity, but he had no idea where they were.

Pidge hopped off the bike and went to the visible men, untying the suit jacket wrapped around her waist and slipping into it as she did. Keith blinked at her now professional look, having mistaken the blazer for a regular jacket.

“Now I feel underdressed,” he hissed to her. She gazed at him impassively and swapped her large, round glasses out for a narrower pair. The square frames made the girl look much more severe, almost as if she was judgmentally looking upon everyone that dared crossed her path. Meanwhile, the other members procured a taser and Glock as well as an extra magazine from their pockets and handed them to Pidge, who rolled her eyes at her lack of a holster and shoved them into her waistband.

“You’re fine. I think they know you’re practically my personal bodyguard at this point; just stand there, and be the muscle. Besides, as long as you're packing, it doesn't matter what you look like. They know better.”

Keith gaped. He wasn’t quite sure if being called a personal bodyguard was an upgrade from “person who terrifies the shit out of people.” Didn’t it entail a lot more taking bullets for someone else’s sake? The young Korean would rather continue his current duty- beating the life out of people when Pidge said “Clip 'em,” and also redoing the budget when shit went down.

“I should get a raise if I’m your bodyguard,” he mouthed cheekily. Pidge scrunched up her nose.

Before he could demand some sort of response to that, they reached the entrance, and Pidge easily heaved the wide set of doors open. She strode through them like she owned the building, despite it being Rolo’s, and Keith and the rest of crew followed suit.

A booming voice greeted them when they swept into the lobby. “Ah, K, I was worried you had gotten lost somewhere.”

Pidge glowered over the top of her glasses, recognizing the man’s words for the subtle dig they were. “No, I think we know the city a little too well for that.”

Another subtle jab, a way of saying, “Green Lion owns this territory.”

“But of course,” the supplier, Rolo, answered indifferently.

Keith had to hide his scowl when he finally came into view. Rolo, their “loyal” supplier, was first and foremost a self-serving asshole. He two timed, cheated, and stole all the time, but he was also the best source of drugs in the region. Pidge very grudgingly went to him for business, under the guise of a slightly older man, and was thus given everything she needed to circulate drugs through the state.

“Enough talk; show me what I came for,” Pidge finally barked. She took a seat on the surprisingly pristine couch, and Keith shifted into place behind her. The other Lions lingered behind, eyes trained on their weapons. Rolo’s own men had Beretta 38A’s in their hands, although they carried them loosely and comfortably.

A slow grin crawled over the man’s sickly, bluish skin at hearing Pidge’s demand. “I thought you’d never ask. Well, you know the basics. It’s a semisolid hallucinogen that comes in vials; it’s meant to be eaten, but if it’s liquified enough, you could straight shoot it.” Rolo reached under the rickety table and hauled up a case, which he cracked open and placed on the surface, facing Pidge. “Here it is: Fantasia.”

The mobster pulled a vial out and scrutinized it. The neon green, Jello like substance inside looked downright radioactive; Keith may have dabbled with shit like coke and ecstasy in his life, but he wasn’t about to touch something looking like that.

“You,” she snapped suddenly, pointing at one of the guard Lions. “Test this.”

Obediently, the man stepped forward and plucked the vial from her small hand, taking care to hide his apprehension. He uncorked the vial and ate the Fantasia all in one go.

“You’ll want to sit down before that hits,” Rolo said conversationally. “It’s a bit of a shocker.”

He sank down to the floor, and for a few minutes, sat silently. His eyes, blank and unseeing, unnerved his associates. Then he fixed his gaze somewhere above Keith’s head with a look of wonder, and essentially seemed to have a grand time in his own little fantasy world. At one point, he actually giggled, clinging to his Beretta like a teddy bear.

Keith balked, sufficiently freaked out, but Pidge was nothing if not all business.

“Hm,” she muttered, assessing. “Fine. I’ll take it. How big is the shipment?”

“Couple thousand vials,” he answered flippantly. “Twice the price of the usual. This is good stuff, frankly- who cares if some crackpot cook made it by accident?”

Pidge was wordless for a minute. “Fine. We’ll wire the money to your usual account. Have this to the dropoff point by Wednesday; I want my runners carrying this by the end of the week.”

“Or course, Sir K,” Rolo replied mockingly. “When have I ever let you down?”

The wiry girl got to her feet and shook his hand, deciding not to answer his question. Wise, Keith supposed. He would’ve snapped and told the fuck exactly what he thought (nothing considered wise to say to the best supplier in the state).

Deal successfully done, the sober Green Lions gracefully filed out of the room, their boss with a hand on her gun the whole way out, and the drugged guinea pig tottering along behind with a dopey smile on his face.

 

* * *

 

“Boss,” the non-drugged man said uneasily when they were far from Rolo. His partner stumbled along beside him, both tripping after Keith and their leader.

Pidge made a noncommittal noise, permitting him to speak.

“Why did the supplier call you K? I’ve never heard anyone else do that.”

She simply eyed him without blinking. “You’re not authorized to know that information. All you need to know is that I run this shitshow, and that I am K to whom it concerns.”

Keith turned away, studying the wheels of his bike like they held the universe’s secrets. Upon hearing the man’s question, he was once again reminded that he didn’t really know Pidge, or any of her reasons for the things she did. Why was she known as K, when one didn’t appear in her name? It was a name that most likely wasn’t real in the first place, of course; however, K seemed like an entirely random letter.

 _Pidge, I’ve known you for two years… I think_ I _can trust_ you _. Why haven’t you trusted me?_

_Who are you, anyway?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was that? OvO
> 
> Next update: as planned, Sunday, 8/21. I'll make sure to let you know if anything changes.
> 
> Also! Chapters 1-4 are like, introductory chapters, so the characters are established. The klance ball should really start rolling at chapter 5, and the gang violence... that's set for chapter 7.
> 
> Blizzard out *dabs gently*


	3. enduring more, holding out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Backstories for a few characters~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *zooms in*
> 
> I!!! CAME THROUGH THE DOOR! LIKE A NORMAL PERSON!
> 
> Ahem, sorry. Wrong fandom. But anyways, hello! I'm back with more of whatever this is.
> 
> Thank you for almost 70 kudos! I'm really proud of this story- it's kinda like a favorite child (sorry, HFU ;;)
> 
> Pidge and Keith's friendship is my literal everything, I'll have you know. Pidge is my literal everything.
> 
> One last note before I shut the hell up- thank you, NamelessThunderhead, for beta'ing late last night!

It was the same dream again, except it wasn’t really a dream. It was a memory, one from five years ago.

 **_“Dad, I don’t understand why you just won’t let me go! I got accepted to the_ ** **Garrison** ** _! They want me to come, I got the highest score on the entrance exam!” she pleaded, fingers twisting in her seat belt. Hot, desperate tears pricked at her eyes as she listened to her own voice fail._ **

**_Her father sighed in irritation. “I told you, no! It’s good for you to be around people closer to your own age. What matters more than quick advancement is taking time to form friendships-”_ **

**_“Ones that won’t even last?!” the girl cried, jolting forward. “They all think I’m weird, anyway... Matt, you saw them making fun of me; tell him!”_ **

**_Matt looked out the window instead of at her. “It might just get worse in college, sis. I think you should wait too. You’re only thirteen, and you've already skipped two grades.”_ **

**_“I’m not a complete baby! What do you think I need protecting from? I swear, I can handle it-”_ **

**_Her father angrily turned around, taking his eyes off the road for only a second. Only one second. “We’re done talking about it,_ ** **Katie** ** _; you’re staying in high school.”_ **

**_“DAD, LOOK OUT-”_ **

**_Her brother lunged for the wheel, trying to turn it away, because in the time it had taken for him to yell at her, they had started to drift into the opposite lane._ **

**_She remembered the squeal of the brakes, the horrific crunch of metal, the skid of the tires across the asphalt before they smashed into the guardrail-_ **

**_Her brother’s limp, pale hand, still weakly grabbing onto her father’s shirt, his engagement ring glinting dully in the sunlight-_ **

Pidge woke up in a cold sweat. Her lips were parted like she hung on the verge of screaming, but there was nothing before her eyes but the dark walls of her room. The small girl curled into herself, shaking.

_No. It’s over, it’s over, you’re fine._

Her gold eyes flickered to the little clock on her nightstand. Blinking red numbers reading 2:56 AM greeted her, and Pidge sighed, pushing her damp bangs away from her forehead. Now that she’d been roused by that particular nightmare, there was no way she could sleep. The brunette hauled herself out of bed and blindly grabbed for her laptop before heading downstairs. The path was unfortunately often used at night, so Pidge found her way even in pitch darkness.

As they often remained, the dim lights of the lounge were on, indicating Keith was awake.

“Couldn’t sleep, boss?” the boy greeted, not even looking up from his occupation. Pidge snorted. Only Keith would memorize the sound of everyone’s footsteps.

“No,” she replied. “Move the fuck over; you’re taking up too much space on my couch.”

“It’s the community couch, Pidgeon,” the dark-haired boy replied. “We all sit on the same couch, even the runners and casual thugs. Not to mention we co-own this place.”

“ _You_ can sit on a cactus,” the annoyed girl said. She flung herself onto the worn material and opened her laptop, deciding to code a new website. Coding was the one thing that could calm Pidge down without fail; it wouldn’t let her down now.

After around fifteen or sixteen lines of HTML, the gang leader spared her subordinate a glance. Keith hunched over his sketchbook like a tiny gargoyle, expression pinched. His hand dragged the pencil over the paper with aching slowness, and her interest piqued, she leaned over to see what he was drawing now.

Although the boy was a huge fan of painting galaxies with watercolor, he liked to simply sketch people out with charcoal and graphite, as he was doing now. Now there was a portrait of someone vaguely familiar laid out on the cream paper. It took Pidge a second to place who it was, but then she realized.

Her lips slowly curved into a Cheshire grin, mood improving instantly. “Keithy boy, is that the new waiter from Arusian?”

Keith startled violently at her teasing question, nearly dropping his pencil. “What? Yeah, so? He’s a new face; why shouldn’t I sketch him?”

“The mullet head doth protest too much, methinks,” she crowed, fingers excitedly tapping on the surface of her laptop. “Do you have a crush?”

“Pidge, what the hell!” he yelped, slamming the sketchbook shut. “I don’t know his name! I saw him for like, five minutes! And he talked to you and Hunk for most of it!”

Setting her laptop aside to “casually” pick at her fingernails, Pidge said airily, “I met him just yesterday too. But he’s Hunk’s old friend. The name’s Lance, I believe.”

“Okay, great, that has barely anything to do with me,” Keith squeaked, hurriedly getting to his feet. “I think I feel the sleep coming, gotta go! Night, Pidgey!”

“Whatever, you insomniac!” she called after his retreating back. “You just want to moon over him in the privacy of your room~”

“I WILL THROW ALL YOUR PEANUT BUTTER IN THE TRASH, YOU TECHNOLOGY OBSESSED WALNUT!” the artist screeched from the top of the stairs, sounding mortified.

“SUCK A DICK IN YOUR DREAMS, KPOP REJECT! AND DON’T CALL ME PIDGEY!”

Scoffing, Pidge grabbed her precious Gateway and returned to coding. He wouldn’t dare touch her peanut butter.

 

* * *

 

Hunk was rather abruptly awoken by something barreling into his bed with all the force of a small wrecking ball. The burly boy flailed around so much at the impact that he tumbled out of bed and crashed on the hardwood floor.

“Oof!” he wheezed, his eyes scrunching up with pain. “What the heckles?” For a split second, he thought he’d been attacked, that all his work with Green Lion had caught up to him. He started praying very frantically, eyes still squeezed shut.

Yet in the same moment, Hunk started inching toward his sock drawer, where a sawed off shotgun was buried underneath piles of outerwear.

“Big brother, wake up!” a tiny voice laughed, dissipating all his worries instantly.

Hunk opened his eyes and looked up to his bed, where his youngest sister, Akela, was comfortably perched. She giggled innocently at his dumbfounded expression.

“Akela,” he groaned, getting to his feet. “We don’t wake people up like that, okay? What do you say, since you almost gave me a heart attack?”

“Sorry, big brother,” she chorused; she’d been properly chastised. Hunk almost felt bad at her downcast look.

“Now, what did you need me for?” he asked, grabbing Akela around the waist and hefting her up. She shrieked in laughter, her glossy black pigtails swinging into her face. Hunk felt himself smiling adoringly.

Akela furrowed her brows as she tried to remember her message. “Oh, big brother Ahe and big sister Kai are making food, and Mama said to come get you! And also that you could call your friends!”

“Alright then! Go tell her I’ll be there in a second, okay?”

His little sister nodded frantically, and Hunk set her down. She scurried out of his room, pausing in the doorway to wave goodbye before running down the stairs. Hunk fondly watched her go, then turned to his nightstand, where his phone had been charging. He sent a text to Pidge and Keith, traipsing off into the bathroom afterward to brush his teeth.

A second after Hunk spat out a mouthful of foam, his phone vibrated with an answer.

Pidge had texted,

**lmao ty hunk, but that fucking insomniac loser passed out at like 4 am and won’t wake up his sleep schedule is soooo fucked lol n i’m looking at some garrison tech designs rn so i can’t come either tell ur mom i said hi and that the cookies she gave me were rly nice tho**

Hunk snorted at the giant block of text; he could gauge by her typing style that she hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep either. The more tired Pidge was, the more she reverted to shorthand and abbreviations in her texts. Interestingly enough, when she was drunk, she typed perfectly.

 **kay i will!! and you should get some more sleep too!! stay healthy pls~** He responded, turning his phone off and shoving it into the pocket of his pajamas.  

“HUNK! BREAKFAST IS READY, SO GET DOWN HERE!” his mother bellowed. Hunk squeaked and hurried downstairs to the dining room, where his family was clustered around the large table. A sprawling assortment of delicious, home-cooked food covered its surface, and the boy felt his mouth watering.

“Sorry, I was just texting Pidge. She and Keith can’t come,” he explained, grabbing for pancakes and eggs before they got eaten up. “Keith’s asleep, and she’s working on some project.”

“Aw, that’s a shame,” Hunk’s father, Nahele, said. He speared fruit on a fork and brought it to his mouth with a thoughtful look. “They’re always nice to have around. Good friends too, huh?”

Nani, Hunk’s mother, laughed. “True! And they’re so skinny- I kind of want to feed them, you know?”

“But Pidge did say she wants to thank you for the cookies, cuz she really liked them!” Hunk interjected, trying not to shrink into himself. His parents wouldn’t be saying that if they knew they were gang leaders with tattoos and a list of violent acts a mile long.

Looking around at his kin, at his squabbling siblings- who were fighting over the last piece of French toast- he was abruptly reminded of everything he had at stake.

_I’m not like Keith and Pidge. I have a family, a real home to come back to- I’m no orphan! This is what I can lose if it comes out that I’m in Green Lion. It wouldn’t be just a scholarship or a job: it’d be all these innocent, wonderful people._

_But I don’t really do anything too bad, do I? I just take care of those two, since they’re bad at doing it themselves. I feed them, watch out for them, build them new things… isn’t that something I gotta do as a friend?_

He swallowed nervously and looked out the huge glass doors. The view of the morning sky was splendid.

 

* * *

 

Elsewhere, in a different house, another young man opened his eyes slowly. He was greeted by the sight of a wooden ceiling fan whirring away, and then, closer to him, puffed clouds of silvery hair. The strands tickled his face, making him huff in laughter.

“Gooood morning, sleepy head,” the owner of said puffy hair chuckled, leaning in to kiss his forehead.

“M’ name’s Shiro,” he replied groggily. “Hey, Allura. What time is it?”

Shiro’s fiancee laughed at his slurred voice. “Almost eleven. Lucky we have the next few days off, huh?”

“Yeah, because ‘color schemes won’t pick themselves, kids!’ Or at least that’s what Veena said. We picked a crazy wedding planner, didn’t we?” the black-haired man groaned, sitting up. The layer of blue, star streaked blankets pooled around his waist as he stretched and looked over at Allura, who had been distracted by her tangled hair. He knew she agreed though- Veena was downright absurd at times.

At times like this, in the wake of his upcoming wedding, he returned to thinking about his old fiance.

**_-bumping into him, knocking him over, a flurry of exchanged apologies, a budding friendship-_ **

**_“Yes, I’m the writer of that research paper, Matt Holt! I’m surprised you’re interested- wanna talk about Kerberos with me?”_ **

**_-a budding romance-_ **

**_“Um, uh… will you go out with me?!”_ **

**_“Oh! Ah, yeah! Although I don’t know what you see in me…”_ **

**_“Amazing things.”_ **

**_-meeting his family-_ **

**_The small girl peered around her brother, anxiously tugging at the hem of her violet dress. “I’m Katie… nice to meet you, Shiro… gane?”_ **

**_Samuel and Matt laughed at her shy greeting, making her pout. Shiro grinned warmly and told her to call him Shiro._ **

**_-having to leave to serve, returning without an arm, but with all the love still in his heart-_ **

**_-buying a ring-_ **

**_“Will- oh god, this is so HARD- will you marry me, Matthew Andrew Holt?”_ **

**_Matt nearly burst into tears on the spot, hurriedly chanting_ ** **yes** ** _._ **

**_-waking up in Japan and receiving the call-_ **

**_“Takashi Shirogane? That you? Finally, I’ve been trying to reach you for ages; I have rather unfortunate news. It seems your fiance and his family have been involved in a fatal car crash, and you were listed as both the emergency contact and the youngest’s guardian in event of death- hello? Sir? Are you still there?” He was, but he’d dropped his phone in horror, unable to process, to breathe- how could he respond to_ ** **that?**

“Shiro? Are you alright?” Allura asked, leaning into his space. Shiro shook himself out of his reverie, regretting remembering in the first place. It wasn’t fair to himself or Allura.

“Yeah, sorry. Just spaced out for a second.” He staggered out of bed, adjusting his cybernetic arm. “Let’s get ready- we can’t keep that woman waiting.”

The war veteran padded off to the bathroom, aware of Allura’s worried gaze trailing after him.

-

After his shower, Shiro stood alone before his dresser, fixing his hair in the mirror mounted above it. His wallet lay open on the furniture’s wooden surface, the photos inside (one of Katie with Matt’s arm around her, one of Matt kissing frosting off his nose that the aforementioned girl had taken with a shitty camera, one of Samuel idly making fun of Matt) only serving to remind him that five years ago, late summer to autumn was the worst time of his life.

First, his grandmother had unexpectedly died, forcing him to rush to Japan for the funeral on short notice. When he’d finished with the family proceedings, he’d turned his phone back on to see a barrage of missed calls from an American number. Shiro called back, and he’d been informed that the love of his life and his soon to be father in law had died in a car crash. He’d even missed the funeral.

He’d also been unable to stop his sister in law from vanishing in the wind like smoke.

Not for the first time, he found his thoughts turning to said missing girl. Thirteen year old Katie Holt was nothing if not incredibly intelligent and precocious. Shiro had sat through many long talks of molecular science and space travel with her, and he’d doted on her, entirely enamored with her enthusiasm for STEM and, oddly enough, peanut butter. But she’d run away after the funeral, still sporting a bandaged head and neck brace. No one had an answer for where she’d gone, much to Shiro’s dismay. Eventually, Altea’s chief of police, Alfor Singh, closed her missing person’s case and presumed her dead. However, the veteran still had a smidge of hope that she was alive.

 _Katie… if you’re out there… you might be scared, or hurting, but I pray you’re okay_.

 

* * *

 

“MOTHERFUCKIN’ PIECE OF _SHIT_ \- GET OVER HERE SO I CAN SMACK THE SHIT OUT OF YOU!” Pidge snarled, spitting blood on the worn mat of their training room. She raised her taped knuckles threateningly.

Keith just scoffed, stripping off his tank top. “Come at me, Pidgey.”

Pidge growled, ripping off her glasses and tossing them aside. She realized she wasn’t that threatening looking, being a tiny 5’5” girl in a sports bra and peanut patterned short shorts, but Keith fucking knew better than to underestimate her. She was going to kick his ass back to Seoul.

The harsh opening beats of Overdose filtered through the speakers of Pidge’s phone, trailing along after some shitty dubstep remix that Pidge didn’t even remember downloading. God, her workout playlist was all over the place, but it did put her in a more violent mood.

The two glared at each other for a minute before Keith lunged, his fist flying toward her face. Pidge ducked before even thinking about it, aiming her own punch at his solar plexus. She knocked the wind out of Keith, but he recovered quickly and kneed her in the stomach.

Pidge skittered backward, breathing harshly, and Keith swept his right leg out in a kick aimed at her temple. The girl hurriedly ducked again. In an instant, she reached behind her, snatched the switchblade tucked into her tight waistband, flicked it open, and slashed blindly at Keith.

He actually _howled_ in surprised pain.

“SHIT! Where the fuck were you keeping that?!” Keith yelped, stumbling backward with a hand pressed to the shallow cut. It was comical seeing him hopping on one leg with his injury covered by his gloved hand. She could feel bad, but the last time they’d sparred, he’d dislocated her shoulder- she’d been in a sling for weeks.

Pidge grinned in a way that looked more like baring her teeth. “Waistband, Keithy boy- learn to be observant!” She bounced back on the balls of her feet, bracing herself for his retaliation.

A twinge of unease pricked at her.

She realized why when he yanked his own bowie knife out of his pocket.

The next couple of seconds passed in a wild blur of them slashing at each other with no rhyme or reason. Pidge got bored of it about half a minute in and tried to kick Keith’s knife out of his hand. She missed, and he smacked her switchblade out of her grip, sending it spiraling over to the wall.

“Motherfuck-” she cursed, trying to dive after it. Keith ditched his own knife and grabbed at her wrist, spinning her around and wrenching her arm behind her back as he did. The golden eyed girl tried shaking him off and ended up pitching forward, taking her sparring partner down with her. He recovered quickly at sat on her back, leaving her arm still pinned.

“I could totally ruin your tattoo if I still had my knife,” Keith mused nonsensically. His eyes swept down the length of her back, which was… interesting, to say the least.

Pidge had a large green lion inked across her skin, trailing down her spine and coming close to dipping into her waistband. Surrounding it was a network of foliage, like the lion had its own personal forest. She’d gotten it the instant she’d turned seventeen and hadn’t needed parental permission.

He shook his head and tuned back in to her angry squawking. “...no way in hell you’re touching my goddamn tattoo- you know how many sessions it took to get inked?! No, of course you don’t, because that PUNY LITTLE PAW PRINT on your hip took ONE DAY! Get the hell off me!”

Pidge scowled once her snickering subordinate clambered off her. “Asshole.”

“Thanks,” he scoffed. “You know I wouldn’t do that. And that makes 256 wins for me.”

She sniffed and stalked over to the wall her belongings were scattered alongside. “Of course you wouldn’t. I’d shoot you in your sleep. Also...”

“I have 264. Remember who’s boss, mullet for brains.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes for this chapter!
> 
> 1\. The transition from Shiro wondering if Katie is okay to Pidge screaming is absolutely inspired by the Avatar: The Last Airbender scene where Toph’s parents were fretting over her, only for the audience to see her threatening her own kidnappers 0.2 seconds later.
> 
> 2\. Pidge’s tattoo is meant to be way more complicated and pretty than I actually describe it as, RIP. I might attempt drawing it.
> 
> 3\. A lot of Pidge’s coding scenes, and the one from chapter two where she was complaining about all those viruses, are based off my father’s wild tales of being in IT. I was actually there for the 2525 viruses customer- I can confirm that was actually the number. Fuckin' rude ass harpy.
> 
> 4\. Hunk is literally so hard for me to write. I have no clue why. But here’s the healthy family interactions with him, cuz he’s the only one with good, living parents AND siblings.
> 
> 5\. Sorry, not sorry for killing Matt (and Samuel). Get rekt, boi.
> 
> Fun fact: I’ve plotted this fic more than any other story! It gives me a lot of joy.
> 
> Next update: as scheduled, Sunday, August 28th. That's the day before I start classes, dammit.
> 
> Love you guys- tell me what you thought, and I'll see you next week!


	4. so hard, we can't

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HERE COME DAT BACKSTORY! OH, SHIT- there's mentions of depression and antidepressants here, so be careful~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: *looks at clock*
> 
> me: it is 10:12 PM on 8/28/16 in my timezone; my work is done
> 
> Heyo! Sorry this is a bit late (for most of you guys, I'm assuming) ;; The truth is, I've been EXTREMELY busy and stressed the past few days, and didn't have this chap finished as quickly as the others were. I'm a bit dissatisfied with it as a whole, but it gets the point across.
> 
> As I mentioned in the previous chapter's notes, class starts tomorrow. That means it's time to Die. So if my updates don't quite make it on time, I'm really sorry. It'll only get worse come swim and debate season, OTL However, I will continue trying my damndest to reach my deadlines. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for all these comments, hits, and kudos!! I'm super happy about them, I swear. And as usual, major shoutout to my beta, NamelessThunderhead (who got this done like, ten minutes ago? Damn, yo)! I love you~

Keith really, really liked cats.

It was an odd fact about him that not many people knew, but he was completely fucking enamored with the sassy furballs, considering them adorable. Pidge compared him to a cat a lot too, saying, “See, he’s all pissy and standoffish, but then he comes up to you with big, shiny eyes and asks you to love him! Hell, he even got stuck in a tree once; he’s a fucking cat, Hunk, a cat!”

(She always forgot to mention that Keith was drunk AND high off his ass when he climbed that tree and had been downright convinced there were evil purple people out to get him. Hunk actually had a vine of the black haired boy screeching at the “purple bat aliens” to go away; it was in his  **Top Ten Blackmail Worthy Things Keith Kim has Done**  list, right above The Great Karaoke Fiasco of 2015.)

But Keith wasn’t too concerned with his past transgressions or his cat-ness, because he’d found his favorite cat hanging around at the back of Arusian Cafe, camped out right next to the dumpster.

“Hey, Red,” he said softly, creeping up behind her. She turned to the boy and blinked, meowing quietly before padding over to him. The cat settled by his feet and nuzzled his denim-clad legs.

Keith grinned wryly, bending down to pet the alley cat. Her russet fur was rough and dusty, but the boy couldn’t bring himself to care. He knew how hard it was to keep clean out in the streets.

Three years ago, the young street rat had first found Red, half-drowned in a gutter. It had been raining heavily the whole day, and the then kitten had been swept off into a fast current. She would’ve died if Keith hadn’t stepped in and yanked her out by the scruff of her neck. Unfortunately for Keith, he didn’t have the means or cash to keep her, so after making sure she was safe and had been checked by a vet, he’d set her back into the alley behind his favorite cafe. She’d scampered off immediately, but kept coming back and finding Keith whenever he was in the area. In a way, the stray was his, so the gang member named her Red and occasionally brought her fish.

As odd as it sounded, Keith saw quite a bit of himself in Red. The two of them had both weathered the ruthless streets, had both fought for scraps, and had both earned too many battle scars to count. He wondered once again if he should take her in when another animal ambled into the alley.

Red often got into fights with other cats and generally made a nuisance of herself, much like Keith with other gang members, so when the newly arrived gray cat came up to her and mewled, Keith went on guard. If something wanted to threaten his cat in front of him, they had another thing coming.

To his surprise, Red affectionately headbutted the gray cat. It quietly sat down next to her, and Red pranced around it for a minute before flopping down on a piece of cardboard. The gray cat, meanwhile, stared at Keith with unnervingly large blue eyes.

After about a minute of judgmentally gazing into Keith’s soul, it turned to Red. Batting at her head and yowling, it started trying to get the other’s attention. She hissed and swiped at it with her paw, clearly annoyed, but the gray cat kept at it.

“Oi,” Keith warned, quickly reaching in and drawing Red away from the menace. His cat continued hissing, even though the larger feline had settled, seeming downcast. Red squirmed irritably in his grip.

Suddenly, the back door to the cafe swung open and crashed into the wall, interrupting Keith’s stare off with the unfamiliar cat. The grey feline yowled in surprise and skittered behind the thug.

The new waiter- Lance- stumbled out of the cafe. Carrying two large trash bags and tripping over air, he flailed his way to the dumpster and flung the bags in. He didn’t notice Keith until the blue eyed cat purred loudly and traipsed over to him.

“Oh, hey, Blue,” Lance murmured, leaning down to pet it. The cat seemed rather pleased now, forgetting Keith entirely to enjoy the attention the other boy offered it. “And hey to you too, mullet boy. What are you doing back here?”

“My name is Keith,” he snapped immediately, hefting up his cat like it would help answer his second question. “What the hell is it with you and my hair, anyway?”

“What the hell is with  _you_ , wearing a mullet in this day and age? Not that it matters, you look-” He cut himself off and turned back to the cafe; someone was yelling for him through the still open door. “Shit, yeah, I’m coming, Shay! Sorry!”

He paused before slipping inside, gazing thoughtfully at Keith. “You know, if you’re friends with Hunk and Pidge, I’ll probably meet you again later. See ya.”

The black-haired boy watched him go, irritated and confused and attracted all at once.  


-

  
When Keith walked into the lounge of their little hideout, having wandered around for a few hours before returning homr, he found Pidge and Hunk had overtaken the living room with their technology. The two tech nerds themselves were sprawled over the sofa, Pidge’s feet in Hunk’s lap. She tapped at her phone’s screen intermittently, and he seemed entirely engrossed in building something.

“What the hell are you doing?” Keith asked, perching on a stack of boxes. He waited for an answer with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh! So I’m building this new spy probe, kind of like a droid, for recon use. I took a Garrison Engineering design Pidge showed me and tweaked it; it should function a lot better now. This is the second prototype, because I kind of sat on the first one,” Hunk rambled in excitement, still tinkering with the lump of metal and wires in his hands. “When I’m done, we can use it to spy on Galra deals and meetings.”

Ah. It was the normal, terrifying technology deal. Keith wouldn’t be surprised if Pidge was steering a satellite or something.

“And Pidge…?” he ventured. The girl looked up from her phone, blinking innocently.

“I’m just playing BB-TAN. Did you know Mars is shitty ammo?” She replied, turning her screen to him. Sure enough, a large red orb was slowly drifting around, knocking into little boxes with numbers in them. It didn’t destroy enough, and the bottom row hit the line near the edge of the screen. The app sadly displayed a game over screen.

“And here I was thinking you’d hacked the FBI again,” the rider sighed, brushing his hair back from his forehead.

“I did that last night after you went up!” Pidge chirped, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I changed some data and deleted a few files to ensure that a couple of our men were untraceable. I mean, they were dumb enough to get on the most wanted list, but I won’t be the idiot that lets their mistakes lead to us.”

Keith sighed, letting the room fall into silence. Sometimes, he felt like an idiot around his closest friends. Pidge was a certified genius, with an IQ to rival Einstein’s, and Hunk was a talented cook and engineer who got along with everyone.

He was just the hired muscle: someone who couldn’t communicate well, but could beat people up like no one else.

Suddenly, Hunk sighed and set his project aside, interrupting Keith’s self-depreciating thoughts. Pidge looked up from cussing out her little avatar and asked him what was wrong.

“It’s just, I’m worried about Lance,” he finally admitted, looking at his shoes. His companions shared a glance; from his tone, Hunk had obviously been silently worrying about this for some time. For it to even interrupt his building mode, which sometimes made him forget about eating, Lance’s problems were obviously of utmost importance to the engineer. Keith wasn’t exactly sure of their history, and his… banter? with the waiter earlier hadn’t given him any clues as to what Hunk was fretting about.

“The waiter we met the other day? How come?” Pidge questioned, turning her phone off.

“He doesn’t look good at all. I mean, he was always skinny, but now he’s just gaunt. And he has dark circles!” Hunk exclaimed.  
  
“So do we,” Keith pointed out, motioning to Pidge and himself. “Maybe he just didn’t sleep well the night before?”  
  
“No, dude, you don’t understand! The Lance I knew bought out half a Sephora with birthday money and wore face masks to bed. He wouldn’t be caught dead with visible dark circles. Not to mention high school Lance would have been flirting with the girl behind the counter like it was his life’s mission. Something happened to him, I know it,” the engineer defended hurriedly.  
  
“Did he get caught up in gang business too? It’s not for everyone,” Pidge mused. She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Being in Green Lion sure as hell stresses some people out. A runner washed out a couple days ago, told me she was ‘fucking done with these shitty customers’ and didn’t want to get caught.”

“It’s not that; I think it has something to do with why he suddenly vanished after junior year. But I have no idea how to ask him.”

Hunk looked so dejected, it made Keith want to go punch Lance in his defense.

“I’m sure he’s doing okay,” Keith reassured, biting his lip. “He’ll be just fine.”

  


* * *

 

  
Lance buried his face in his hands, peeking through them to look at the mountain of bills on his aging dining table. The few hours he had after the end of his shift and dropping off Jamie were supposed to be time for him to relax, but he didn’t see how he could when he had all this shit to deal with. He worried his lip between his teeth and reached for the little book he’d been keeping track of finances in.

_Fuck… I’m starting to run out of all the money I stole. I have to withdraw hundreds and walk to all the offices now to pay, so I can see how I stand after this month. A couple hundred for the electricity, more for the heating… is there any of this we could do without? Internet, probably, but that’s a desperate measure..._

It was at times like this that Lance felt he really, really wasn’t qualified to be taking care of himself and a kid. He was a giant baby himself, after all. Or at least he had been, before he’d snapped, practically kidnapped his brother, and fled from the situation they’d been trapped in. Now, the waiter felt like he was stuck in a place between functioning adult and angsty, immature teen.

_I wasn’t wrong in running away, I know I wasn’t. Staying there longer would only have hurt Jamie. He was three; he couldn’t handle being smacked around like I could! But, god, I’m not keeping it together._

Because running from his abusive parents didn’t just mean Lance was away from stable income and shelter: it meant he’d lost ready access to the medication that had been improving his life. Forty milligrams of the antidepressant he’d been on, Prozac, ran for $450 to $470 without insurance. He couldn’t reasonably spend so much extra money on that when they were barely keeping their heads above water.

It meant his mental state was shit, but there was extra cash for food and clothes.

Sighing, the boy heaved himself to his feet, gathered all the bills, and set off to pay them.

  


* * *

 

  
Allura Kaur, soon to be Allura Shirogane, really loved children. Suffice to say, she was having the time of their life at her godfather Coran’s afternoon kindergarten class, especially because the kids were just as enamored with her as she was with them. Since Coran’s class had just ended, and he’d gotten a call from someone, she was taking time to converse with a child who hadn’t been picked up yet.

“Miss Allura, your hair’s so pretty!” the girl cooed. She ran her hand over Allura’s braid gently, looking entirely awed by the curly silver locks.

“Thank you,” she laughed. “Yours is too!”

The girl was so engrossed in playing with her hair, she didn’t even realize her mom had come to pick her up. She waved goodbye to Allura, who cheerily sent her off.  
  
Coran suddenly put down his phone, a mildly upset look on his face. Allura was about to ask what was wrong when he strode over to a young boy with fluffy brown hair, who was coloring a picture of a plane.

“Jamie, it looks like your brother’s going to be a little late today.”

Jamie pouted. “He’s always working now! I miss him.”

“Well,” the woman’s godfather said gently, kneeling down to the child’s level. “He’s trying his best. But we’ll make him try a little harder for you, okay?”

“Fine,” came the disgruntled mumble. “One day he’ll have time to play more, right?”

Coran nodded enthusiastically, and Jamie resumed coloring, his turquoise eyes a bit sad. Allura silently asked her godfather what was happening, and quietly, the man started to explain in Punjabi.

“He’s being raised by his brother, alone, and sometimes Lance doesn’t quite keep up with things, it seems. I’ve spoken to the young man; he’s very kind, if a bit over the top occasionally. However, he’s also rather absorbed with his financial troubles. It’s starting to worry the little tyke. I feel quite bad about the whole situation, though I can’t pry or offer any support.”

Allura looked to Jamie, her heart overflowing with sympathy. Having grown up in a wealthy family, and being doted on by both parents even when one was absent for work, she was a stranger to  the type of difficulty the kindergartner was enduring. But of course, there wasn’t anything she could do… save for outright offering Lance money.

With a loud series of squeaks, the door opened, and a tall teen rushed in, breathing very heavily. Jamie perked up immediately and put away his things, calling, “Hermano!”

“Hey, kiddo,” the boy, now obviously known as Lance, wheezed. “Sorry I’m late; I had to run around and pay some bills.”

“I’ll forgive you if you buy me ice cream,” the child wheedled. “Please?”

“We have some at home! You can have as much as you want there, capiche?”

“Aw, okay,” Jamie whined, but skipped to his brother’s side nonetheless. The boy finally stood up straight and looked to Coran gratefully. The red haired teacher waved off his silent thanks.

Then his eyes wandered to Allura, and he instantly seemed starstruck.

“You’re gorgeous,” he blurted, staring at her. For a moment, the woman was rather confused- that had come out of absolutely _nowhere_ \- but then she smiled graciously.

“Thank you!”

“Smooth,” Jamie snickered, tugging on his sibling’s olive jacket. He seemed surprisingly used to Lance blurting things out like that, which made Allura wondered just how many women he spontaneously complemented on a daily basis.

“Oi, shut it, brat!” Lance warned.

“You’re a dumb dumb; she’s married anyways,” the child pointed out, gesturing to her ring. He mispronounced “married” as “mawwied,” and Allura thought it was absolutely sweet, although incorrect.

Lance’s eyes widened comically. “Dios, I am so sorry- I’m just gonna leave. BYE, MR. CORAN, THANKS FOR WAITING WITH HIM!” He called, scrambling out the door with his cackling brother in tow.

Allura blinked, sharing a glance with Coran before bursting out into laughter.

“It’s not like I minded,” she gasped between giggles. “Shiro would have found it funny too.”

“I think that’s just how Mr. McClain is,” Coran answered, wheezing.

The two shut off the lights and drifted out the door, highly amused.

 

* * *

 

The woman traced a wizened finger down a badly colored map, directly down the boundary line separating a large green patch from a purple trail. Her hood cast her face and brittle white hair into shadow, and if he was a more childish man, the person beside her would no doubt compare her to a witch. As it was, he was no child, unlike the greatest thorn in his side.

“I suggest,” she began, voice rusty from disuse, “that if we’re to take back Altea from that little boy who thinks he can run a gang, we start here.” She paused at a corner of the green area and tapped it twice.

“And my plan was so much worse?” he responded, sufficiently irked.

The woman stayed silent. She wasn’t quite sure how to respond in a way that would curb his anger, but decided to speak her mind despite it. “I guarantee this will procure even more results.”

“It had better. That brat will die one way or another though; are we clear?"

“Of course, sir. His head will roll by the end of the year.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTES: Lance’s part might seem a little odd, so here’s a shitton of clarification. First, his bank does NOT allow bill pay, so that’s why he has to drive to offices and pay the bills. He also does all his transactions in cash because his credit cards were cancelled (it has not occurred to him to open new ones. amazing), and thus, he also has shit credit. Next, I looked up Prozac’s prices (sans insurance) on this site (http://www.truemedcost.com/prozac-price/), but I’m not sure how accurate they are. Please just go with this. Despite my own shit mental state, I’ve never been on antidepressants, so this Lance is going to mimic me more. Apologies if it doesn’t quite line up with others’ experiences.
> 
> Please tell me what you thought, haha, I tried, orz
> 
> Also! Let's play a game. I'm gonna drop references to all sorts of things in the story, from shows to memes to songs. Like I pointed out, a scene in 3 was based off an A:TLA episode. But I didn't mention that the song Overdose was a reference to EXO (look, I might be ARMY, but there's no rule about stanning EXO too, okay)! A reader caught it. So if you see something you think is a reference, it probably is. Let me know~
> 
> Next update: as scheduled, 9/5/2016. This one WILL be dicey. I have not written it at all, though I have it planned. However, that's the chapter with the Sweet Klance, so I hope it makes up for it.
> 
> See you~
> 
> Another note: I headcanon human!Allura as Indian, because I am Indian af. Punjab represent, guys. So, in this fic, she speaks Punjabi and is a Sikh.
> 
> Yet another note: If anyone speaks Spanish, Japanese, Hawaiian/Pidgin, or Korean, and is willing to help me with translations and cultural customs, PLEASE let me know. I don't want to be ignorant and offend anyone, nor do I want to portray something wrong. But research on Google only does so much. Anything is appreciated, since I'm in the dark on EVERYONE but Allura and Pidge _(:D)


	5. no way, no way, no way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *screams*
> 
> Here come More Backstory!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cackles*
> 
> I posted this at EXACTLY 11:59 PM, so go me. I technically made the scheduled date. Now to edit it, because lord knows it wasn't beta'd or formatted right. *sheepishly dabs*
> 
> This week was a fucking mess. I basically died. I had no time to work on this til yesterday, and I straight up ignored homework to finish it today. And it's still not up to snuff. I promise I'll fix it _(:D)
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for 93 kudos!! That's more attention than I expected it to garner. You've made this nerd a very happy piece of trash, that's for sure.

Honestly, with the amount of times a week Hunk visited Arusian, he was seriously starting to question whether or not he should just move there. Currently, the boy was sitting alone at a corner table, watching a constant stream of funny videos on his phone while drinking herbal tea and eating fresh cake. As “Company is Coming” ended, the screen switched to a blurry disaster of a house’s interior. The video stabilized fairly quickly, but it didn’t give Hunk any clues as to what it was about, though he was able to discern that it had been taken in his house.

He didn’t quite figure out what was going on until the camera swung to Pidge, who was sitting in the center of the floor surrounded by empty bottles of alcohol. She furiously muttered to herself before turning to the camera and outright screeching.

“Galra! Galra- hic!- in MY GOOD, CHRISTIAN SUBURBS!”

"Pidge, what the fuck; you aren’t religious,” Keith mumbled from out of the frame. The Hunk in the video and the present day Hunk both giggled. Now he remembered the context to this; shortly after the Galra had made their first attempt on Altea, around eight months ago, Keith and Pidge showed up at Hunk’s house to drink away their sorrows.

“They are in my house! In my pious household!” Pidge insisted, drunkenly stumbling to her feet. She clambered on top of the Kahele family’s coffee table and brandished a bottle like a weapon. “I ONLY HAVE ONE MESSAGE FOR THESE GALRA BITCHES: 01100111 01100101 01110100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01101100 01101001 01110100 01100101 01110010 01100001 01101100 00100000 01100110 01110101 01100011 01101011 00100000 01101111 01110101 01110100 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01101101 01111001 00100000 01100111 01101111 01100100 01100100 01100001 01101101 01101110 00100000 01101000 01101111 01110101 01110011 01100101 00101100 00100000 01100100 01100001 01101101 01101110 00100000 01101001 01110100 00001010!”

“WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?” Keith cried, rolling into the frame. He was clinging forlornly to a pillow, flopping on the ground with the grace of a flailing Magikarp. Video Hunk crowed, “Hell yeah, Pidge!” in response to the binary that had effortlessly flowed off her tongue.

Suddenly, Pidge swayed, nearly tripping off the coffee table. She dropped her bottle and muttered, “So I says, bada bing, bada boom…” before tumbling straight off the glass and crashing into the couch.

“Houston, we have a problem,” Keith said eloquently; he made no move to help her. Video Hunk shrieked, dropped his phone, and rushed to the drunk girl’s aid. The recording ended there, leaving present day Hunk cackling manically.

“Shit, you good there, fam?” Someone said, plopping into the seat across from Hunk. The burly boy startled and looked up worriedly. He was met with Lance’s smirking face and electric blue eyes.

“Hey, Lance,” Hunk greeted, high fiving him. “And yeah, I’m great! I was laughing at Pidge drunkenly falling off a coffee table- wanna see?”

“Oh my god, really?” He leaned over and snatched Hunk’s phone from his hands to watch the video, eyes wide throughout Pidge’s binary spiel. When Keith appeared in the frame, the waiter snorted and turned away, snickering.

Still laughing, Lance turned back to Hunk. “That mullet dude’s goddamn hilarious when he’s drunk, what the hell?”

“Ooh, that’s not the half of it! You haven’t seen the **Purple Aliens Monologue** or the **Great Karaoke Fiasco of 2015**! I think I have them both here.” He paused in the midst of scrolling through his camera roll, uncertainly watching his old friend. Now seemed like an opportune time to pry. “You know, if you’d moved just a little later, and you’d come to college with us, you could have been here to see all this. What… what happened, Lance? Why did you just leave like that?”

Hunk could actually see Lance’s face close off, like shutters had drawn across it. He immediately knew he’d fucked up, but it was too late to fix it now. Hunk’s hands fluttered toward Lance’s frozen body.

“A lot of shit went down,” Lance breathed out before Hunk could reach him. His gaze seemed unfocused and haunted; his hands trembled in his lap. “I just- I had to leave, Hunk. It wasn’t okay to leave Jamie there, not after what happened to Rosa.” His voice cracked on his sister’s name. “You have to understand, man; I didn’t have a choice- I did what I had to do.”

Hunk swallowed hard, knowing know that his fears of something awful befalling Lance hadn’t been unfounded. But something else about what the other boy had said suddenly struck him.

“Wait, Jamie is with you?! Your kid brother?”

“Yeah. He’s in kindergarten now, can you believe? You saw him when he was a baby,” He straightened then, some sort of happy mask falling into place. “And if I wanna buy him some new toys, I should probably get back to work; boss is looking at me weirdly anyway. I guess I’ll still see you when school starts,” Lance looked at the engineer, smiling. Only a hint of pain glimmered in his eyes. “Actually text me sometime though- I want those conchas! See ya.”

Hunk watched Lance traipse off, concern bubbling in his stomach. Opening up Kik, he shot a quick text into his group chat with Pidge and Keith.

_@we dem lions_

_A minute ago: Mom Friend™ >> 5001 Pidgeys, Red Power Ranger_

**hey, remember my friend from the cafe? he’s in some shit. but i think he’s going to the garrison with us**

**5001 is typing…**

**so what, you want us to take care of him or some shit? in college? kk**

**yes!!! he’s in trouble, dammit, and i don’t think he’s had friends for a while**

**Red is typing…**

**we’re supposed to let him follow us around like a lost puppy. great**

**5001 is typing…**

**you drew him and mooned over him like a lost puppy stfu kpop reject**

**Red is typing…**

**Red is typing…**

**OKAY YOU KNOW WHAT JUST FOR THAT I THREW OUT YOUR LAST JAR OF JIF**

**5001 is typing…**

**yoU BITCH YOU’RE DEAD TO ME**

**guys! this isn’t the point! i’m not kidding**

Five minutes passed with no response. Hunk rested his head on the table and regretted his choice in friends.

**goddammit guys, i’ll do this myself. operation save lance is a go**

 

* * *

 

Pidge was fucking fuming.

It was 6:00 PM, and only now had she dragged that fucker Keith out to the nearest Safeway to buy replacement peanut butter. The asshole had also decided to stop at Starbucks beforehand, and now had a chai tea latte cupped between his grubby, destructive little hands.

“I should punt that latte to Mars,” she grumbled darkly. “How dare you touch my sacred treat.”

Keith stared at her. “It was literally almost empty, Pidge. And you deserved it for mocking me!”

“That wasn’t even mocking! It was me mentioning an event that happened,” the brown haired girl sniffed, wandering down the aisle full of breakfast items. The pair wandered by the syrup, the oats, the poptarts, and the cereal before finally stopping at the peanut butter section. The damn thing wasn’t even on sale, but Keith deserved to buy 10 jars at full price. It wasn’t like he couldn’t afford it.

“You know, what even is it with you and peanut butter?” The thug suddenly asked, thoughtfully picking up a jar of Nutella. “Of all the things to like, it’s something so bland.”

Pidge froze. Her hand remained suspended in the air above the rack, faintly shaking.

_**“Mattie, Mattie!” she chirped. “Let’s make cookies!”** _

_" **Okay, which kind?” Her brother laughed, scooping up her tiny body. Her four year old frame was less than half the size of his lanky fifteen year old figure, and she cooed, happy to be held so high up in the air.** _

_**"Peanut butter! Like the ones you said Mama made.”** _

_**Matt went quiet, peering out the window. “Yeah, she made a lot of those cookies. She- Mom liked peanut butter. I guess you do too, huh?”** _

_**Katie blinked, wondering why her brother sounded different. Later in life, she’d recognize his tone as wistful, as lonely and sad and pained. “It’s my favorite!”** _

Snapping back to the present, Pidge angrily shook her head. “I just do, okay? I don’t ask why you like bibimbap, do I?”

“Because that’s all I remember my family making…” he trailed off, realization hitting him. “Shit, Pidge, I’m sorry.”

"It’s fine,” she ground out. “It’s not like- I didn’t even know her. That’s one of the only things I ever heard about my mom. That she liked peanut butter.”

“I’ll buy you the whole rack,” Keith proposed, sounding mildly guilty.

Pidge blinked. After hearing Keith’s earnest peace offering, her mouth quirked up into a smile. “Thanks, asshole. You’re good for something. Get a cart.”

Yet fifteen minutes passed without him bringing one.

When she went to investigate, she found him standing before the waiter with the blue eyes and brown hair, whose shirt was soaked in tea, and boy, were they going at it. Off to the side, a young boy was sitting on the floor, watching them argue. He munched on a Twix bar, and when he noticed Pidge near, he motioned to the floor next to him.

"They've been at it for a while," the child said sagely. He snapped off a piece of Twix and offered it to her. "Sit down, hermano is kinda funny when he gets mad."

Pidge gritted her teeth and dug her fingers into her temples. "Pardon me, Keith, but WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING."  
  
"HE STARTED IT!" Both boys blurted.  
  
The young boy attempted to whistle, throwing his trash into the full trash can. "Smooth, Lance."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So tell me what you thought, throw tomatoes at me, rescue me from my absurd teachers, whichever!
> 
> Answers to random questions you may have: Bibimbap is a Korean dish! Yes, "Company is Coming" is a real video you can find on YouTube! The Great Karaoke Fiasco of 2015 WILL be revealed in a later chapter! Pidge's message in binary (which I totally used a translator for) is "Get the literal fuck out of my goddamn house, damn it!"
> 
> Next update: I don't know a fucking thing, my guy. I'll sure as hell try for next Sunday, 9/11.
> 
> Also, I know I promised Klance in this, but it unfortunately didn't happen ;; I will make SURE it appears right at the start of next chapter.
> 
> Blizzard out *bails out a window*


	6. Interlude- PIDGE'S Most Beautiful Moment in Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A random day in the life of a gang leader.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A storm of readers descend upon me, all having seen in their emails that I updated. Cowering upon a rock, I raise a tiny, cardboard sign. There are three words on it.
> 
>  
> 
> _It's an interlude._
> 
>  
> 
> ANYWAY. Hi, hello, how are you? I hope you're doing great, because I'm suffering! But I digress- I need to explain what this shit is.
> 
> So, while plotting this fic, I had the idea of interludes every five chapters. They're meant to be fun little snapshots of the characters' lives that both provide backstory for the charries and distract readers from the Hell that is the main story. And this is Pidge's! 
> 
> Her relationship with Nyma is pretty weird, ngl. I just wrote it for funsies, and for something a little playful.
> 
> Context/timeframe: This is set a little bit after the aforementioned fight where Keith dislocated Pidge's shoulder.
> 
> THANKS FOR 106 KUDOS! ILY!

Pidge’s eyes flew open the second her alarm started blaring. It was precisely 5:00 AM, and she had a lot of shit to do. Groaning as she sat up and slammed her hand on the off button, the gang leader slid out of bed, already beginning to grope for her stuff.

“McFuck,” she hissed, stumbling around in the dark. Where the shit was everything she owned? Her binder was on her dresser, half covering her laptop, and she didn’t even remember putting it there. The brown haired girl slipped it on and continued scrambling for the rest of her clothes.

Still hopping around with one leg in her pants, Pidge tripped her way to the bathroom. After quickly finishing her business (and chucking out one of Keith’s shitty old razors), she rushed downstairs.

Keith, AKA the cause of her fucking daily suffering, sat in the middle of the living room. His art supplies lay scattered around him, some tubes of paint empty, others entirely full.

“Why the shit are you awake? Did you get any sleep at- stop screaming; it’s just me!”

Her right hand groaned and hung his head. Obviously still trying to recover from the shock she’d just given him, he turned to her with bloodshot eyes.

“I couldn’t fall asleep again,” Keith mumbled. “So I started drawing, and then I really lost track of time.”

Pidge’s heart softened. Despite all the fun she made of his insomniac tendencies, she knew it was a real problem for him, having suffered it frequently herself.  “Go to sleep, Red. Or at least try to. You still have those strong sleep aids Rolo slipped you, right?”

He nodded, putting away his things. Pidge swept toward him and scooped up his canvas, delicately placing it on the easel half-hidden in the room’s corner. When she turned around, Keith had stood up and was wistfully looking upstairs.

“I miss being able to sleep normally,” he confided at her wordless prompt to talk. “It was easy when I still had Areum. When I knew she was safe. And I hate the way the drugs make me feel.”

“There’s no shame in taking them when you need,” the girl admonished. She didn’t know what she could say about Areum; neither Pidge nor Hunk ever had. “You have to rest sometime; you’ll crash and burn otherwise.”

“I know. Thanks, Pidgeon,” Keith replied, smiling weakly. He hefted the box containing all his paints and strode upstairs.

The leader of Green Lion dutifully watched him go, standing vigil in the main room of their shared home, before she suddenly realized she was going to be late to her meeting. Cursing, she spun on her heel and rushed out the door.

 

* * *

 

Some twenty minutes later, Pidge managed to make it to a shady looking flat vaguely in the vicinity. She held her concealed taser and Beretta tightly, warily looking around before knocking on the door. Nobody was visibly around at this time of the morning, but one could never be sure in a gang owned territory.

The door swung open to reveal a tall, curvy woman dressed in nothing but underwear and a sheer babydoll. Pidge reeled back in disgust.

“What the fuck?! Put on some fucking clothes before you open the door, oh my god!”

The woman blew a huge pink bubble with her wad of bubblegum and tossed one of her blonde pigtails over her shoulder. “Oh, honey, don’t be annoyed because I have what you don’t. Get inside; I can’t let someone in a grunge band tee be seen on my doorstep.”

Pidge hissed at her, already 3729 levels of irritated just being in her presence. As she walked in, she snapped, “I don’t fucking care about how I look, Nyma; I’m a gang leader, not… whatever you are.”

“I don’t know, being a well known and respected thief is pretty damn great,” Nyma, infamous cousin of drug lord Rolo, drawled airily. “Not to mention I am your fucking medic, so I’d watch your ass. I could re-dislocate your fucked up shoulder right now.”

“You do that,” Pidge warned, voice soft and dangerous. “And you’ll be having words with the person who did this to me, assuming I don’t shoot your kneecaps out right then and there.”

Nyma blanched at Pidge’s threat. It gave the girl a small thrill; everyone who knew shit in the underworld was scared of Keith. Of course, they didn’t see the version of “Crazy Red” that stole her socks and painted spaceships at ass o’clock in the morning, but that was a good thing.

“Alright, alright; just take your fucking shirt off.”

Pidge complied, grudgingly letting Nyma look over her injured shoulder. Her violet eyes suddenly became focused, and she stopped popping her bubblegum while completing her work.

Not for the first time, Pidge felt a small twinge of pity for what had happened to Nyma. She’d been a promising med student, and Rolo an aspiring biochemist, when a few suspected members of Galra falsely accused them both of multiple charges of fraud, forgery, and plagiarism. Despite their protests, the cousins had been expelled from the Garrison and cast out on the streets. Eventually, they fell to crime to make a living. Now, whenever there was an injury too serious for regular first aid, but not severe enough for the hospital, Green Lion members went to Nyma, who patched them up for a small price. However, the set-up did leave her with odd hours, hence Pidge having to wake up at five in the morning to see her.

“Okay,” the woman said, dragging Pidge back to the present. “It looks like it healed well. ‘Course, I can’t tell shit without proper scans, but our machine is shot. I need that Hunk dude to come fix it when he has time. That can be your payment.”

“Fine. Pleasure doing business, witch.” Pidge sniffed. She slipped her so called grunge tee back on and drifted toward the door. All the knickknacks perched haphazardly on the shelf beside it were certainly stolen, the Lion mused.

Nyma scoffed. “What happened to ‘Miss Nyma, Miss Nyma?’ You were so cute when you were younger.”

“AND THEN YOU FUCKED IT UP BY STEALING ALL MY SHIT!” The girl exploded. “You even stole some other runner’s cat! And sold her!”

“Money problems, man. I told you the Galra fucked me over.” The blonde shrugged. “Also, you’re forgetting something.”

The brunette narrowed her eyes, mentally reviewing everything she’d brought with her. “What do you mean?”

Nyma grinned and held out Pidge’s Beretta, pinched lazily between two fingers.

Pidge’s wordless shriek probably woke up half the block, as did the thud of Nyma’s electrocuted body hitting the ground.

 

* * *

 

A few hours later…

_@we dem lions_

_A minute ago: 5001 Pidgeys >> Red Power Ranger, Mom Friend _™_ _

**HHH I FORGOT TO TELL YOU BUT THAT FUCKING HO NYMA STOLE MY FUCKING BERETTA THIS BITCH HHJGKD**

**Mom is typing…**  
  
**oh my god, pidge, PLEASE tell me you didn’t attack her!**

The girl whistled sheepishly as she tapped out her next message.

**...um i might’ve tasered her a little**

**Mom is typing…**

**PIDGE GUNDERSON**

**Red is typing…**

**high five, Pidgeon, you go**

**SHE HAD IT COMING AND SEE KEITH AGREES WITH ME altho his bitch ass should be SLEEPING GO TO SLEEP KEITHY BOY**

**Red is typing…**

**fuck you your text woke me up  
**

**Mom is typing…**

**relations with rolo are stressed enough as it is! stop attacking his cousin!**

**hunk pls don’t tell me you want me to apologize**

There was silence. She’d been read receipted.

**...dammit you want me to apologize**

**FINE**

Snarling, Pidge opened up another chat.

_A minute ago: 5001 Pidgeys >> Pretty Lil Psycho _

**look bitch**

**i’m sorry i tasered you or whatever**

**but you had it coming!**

**Pretty is typing…**

**yeah that’s fair i’m sorry i stole your beretta AGAIN**

**and who the fuck are you calling bitch, you gremlin**

**GREMLIN**  
  
**I AM BEATING YOUR ASS THE NEXT TIME I SEE YOU**

**Pretty is typing…**

**guess i just won’t let you see beezer again. tsk tsk he’ll be sad that AI sure loves you**

**no i’m sorry pls show me your wonderful technology**

Once again, silence.

**i can’t believe you read receipted me you’re mcfucking blocked**

Pidge tossed her phone over the lump of couch cushions and flopped down on them, sighing. It was time for a quick nap, and then maybe a few peanut butter M&Ms as a treat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so unbeta'd, I cry. I haven't edited it myself either. I'll do that some other time (see, I have. Work. Kill me).
> 
> Next INTERLUDE update: the Wednesday after chapter 10. All interludes are intended to come out on Wednesdays.
> 
> Next CHAPTER update: as scheduled, 9/11/2016.
> 
> Tell me what you thought! Blizzard out.
> 
> SHIT, I almost forgot. For those who might've forgotten/don't know, Beezer is Rolo and Nyma's little robot unit from the show, the one Pidge was fangirling over.


	7. and stupidly, us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *game announcer voice* Hello, folks! It's time for ALL! THAT! KLANCE! *spinning wheel effect*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *staring at document* the fuck is this.
> 
> Good news: it's Klance, like I promised.
> 
> Bad news: it isn't the whole chapter.
> 
> I'm really stressed and rushed right now; this is all I can do to maintain schedule. I'm gonna update the rest over the course of the week, so before I drop chapter 7, for the love of god, please reread this.
> 
> Thank you so much for 124 kudos; I love you!
> 
> EDIT, 9/18/2016, 1:44 AM
> 
> Holy shit, I finished. 
> 
> But I still have to write the next chap _(:D) RIP
> 
> Anyway, here are the extra scenes! Hunk narrates because I never write enough of him.

Last time on IADA:

_Pidge blinked. After hearing Keith’s earnest peace offering, her mouth quirked up into a smile. “Thanks, asshole. You’re good for something. Get a cart.”_

_Yet fifteen minutes passed without him bringing one._

_When she went to investigate, she found him standing before the waiter with the blue eyes and brown hair, whose shirt was soaked in tea, and boy, were they going at it. Off to the side, a young boy was sitting on the floor, watching them argue. He munched on a Twix bar, and when he noticed Pidge near, he motioned to the floor next to him._

_"They've been at it for a while," the child said sagely. He snapped off a piece of Twix and offered it to her. "Sit down, hermano is kinda funny when he gets mad."_

_Pidge gritted her teeth and dug her fingers into her temples. "Pardon me, Keith, but WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING."_

_"HE STARTED IT!" Both boys blurted._

_The young boy attempted to whistle, throwing his trash into the full trash can. "Smooth, Lance."_

12 minutes earlier…

Keith sipped his latte as he walked to the front of the store, deep in thought. Now he knew one more thing about Pidge, but he wished he hadn’t found out the way he had. The girl’s face had twisted in pain after Keith asked his offhand question. Grimacing, the thug wondered what exactly happened to her family. All he knew was that when PIdge had barged into his life, she’d already been alone.

He paused next to a huge display of flowers before reaching the carts, remembering. Come to think of it, Pidge burst into his life like a hurricane and caught him in the eye of her storm almost exactly three years ago.

Three years ago…

_Keith slammed his fist into the last goon’s face, snarling. Enough blood had smeared over his knuckled to obscure the bruises marring them. He was exhausted and simmering with quiet rage, and for FUCK’S sake, these people dressed in too much purple had picked a fight with the wrong person._

_A slow clap echoed through the parking lot, prompting Keith to whirl around. He raised his fists and shouted threateningly, “Who the fuck is there?!”_

_“Calm the hell down, dude,” a cool, feminine voice called. “I’m not here to fight you. Just passing by, really. But I have a proposal that might interest you.”_

_A small figure stepped through the entrance to the lot, their hands shoved in the pockets of their oversized green hoodie. They raised their head as they neared Keith, and the shadow covering their face fled, revealing their features._

_The person in front of Keith was a short girl with flyaway brown hair and golden eyes hidden behind large, round glasses. But Keith’s eyes weren’t drawn to those. Rather, they settled on the smudge of blood painting one of her round cheeks._

_Evidently, she’d been in a fight too. And if the blood spattered over her, which didn’t seem to be coming from any open wounds, was any indication... she’d won._

_“Who the hell are you? What fucking proposal?” He stuttered, backing away from her. She raised an eyebrow as he tripped over a collapsed body and fell backwards._

_“Well, that was graceful,” the girl snickered. The black haired boy glared at her from the ground; picking himself up off the asphalt, he clicked his tongue in irritation._

_“You didn’t answer me. What do you want?”_

_“You. Or, more specifically, your service. See, I’ve been noticing you for a while, Red,” She ambled up to him, circling him like a shark. “You always hang around with a cat near the cafe some of the people I work for like. But no one else is ever around you. You work alone; you live alone; you’ll die alone, at this rate.”_

_Keith hissed angrily, lunging for her. She snapped her leg out in a kick and batted his hand away, making a condescending_ **_tch_ ** _sound. “I know that!” He snapped. “I know that already; why are you telling me?!”_ _  
_

_“Because I was the same for a while, dipshit. Until I got picked off the streets by DotU.”_

_“What the fuck is that?”_

_“A gang. To clarify, we’re the undying rivals of these bitches, Galra,” She stomped on the hand of a purple clad thug, causing him to whimper in pain. “You’re a fighter. We need more of those. You need a home- well, we can try being that.”_

_Keith considered. “You’re saying you can give me a better place to live than a shack in the forest? And all you want as payment is for me to beat the shit out of people?”_

_“Sounds about right!” The girl chirped. “You and I, we’re starting out as runners for now. I can guarantee we won’t stay that way though,” here, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “If you stay with me, anyway.”_

_She lifted a hand, watching him with those unnerving gold eyes. Keith looked at the crumpled bodies around him, the wreckage in his wake. Fighting was his specialty. Violence had made him._

_“So… are you in?”_

_Keith ripped his gaze away from the Galra and stared into her eyes, at her outstretched hand and small, curved smirk. She was entirely serious._

_“What do I have to lose?” He grumbled, taking her hand. He knew no one would miss him if he died, not anymore. The girl’s smirk morphed into a wide grin._

_“Fantastic. Welcome to DotU… or should I say Green Lion? It’ll be_ **_mine_ ** _soon enough.”_

_She released his hand and skipped back, turning to saunter off. Keith frowned, knowing he was expected to follow, but he still had one last question._

_“Hey, nerd. What’s your name?”_

_She glanced over her shoulder, face still swallowed up by her giant jacket. “Nerd? Ha, that’s only a part of my ridiculous patchwork of an identity. My name’s Pidge. Pidge Gunderson.”_

_“You’d better remember it.”_

Keith jolted out of his memories, noticing his tea had gone cold. Shit. He’d wasted a lot of time stuck in the past. He hadn’t gotten to the good part either, the one where Pidge had used his help to outright overthrow DotU and make it her gang. He’d figured out the true extent of her terrifying capabilities when she’d been standing over their old leader with a smoking gun in her hand.

Deciding he should probably get Pidge her cart, the grey eyed boy started forward, but he was still distracted. He didn’t at all notice the person nearby until he slammed right into them.

Very unfortunately for both of them, the loose top of his cup popped open, spilling tea all over the person’s shirt. Before Keith could even apologize, they let out an ungodly shriek and stumbled backward.

“Oh my god! What the fuck, mullet boy?!”

Mullet boy? Only one fucking person called him that: that waiter, Lance.

Keith cursed and looked up, praying it wasn’t true, but the universe had never had mercy for him. The tall boy was angrily looking at his soaked blue shirt, and meanwhile, a small boy next to him was utterly losing his shit.

“Hermano, you’re an idiot,” the child chortled. “You’re just lucky it didn’t land on your pants!”

“Shut it, brat! Mullet boy here has some fucking explaining to do! Why weren’t you watching where you were going?”  
  
“Why weren’t you?” Keith shot back, the need to argue immediately eclipsing the courtesy of apologizing. “You could’ve avoided me too, huh?”

Lance reeled back, entirely affronted. “Excuse me? You were in the way!” He stalked forward and poked a finger into Keith’s chest for emphasis. The black haired boy somehow found it in him to not stare into Lance’s stupidly attractive face, instead focusing on the young boy behind them, who had now plopped on the floor to eat a Twix bar.

Shaking his head and shoving the waiter’s arm away from him, the thug glowered. “Don’t get in my space, dipshit; it’s just a shirt.”

“A shirt you will be dry cleaning!”

“Dry cleaning?! You can wash that out in A SINK!”

“It’s the principle! You spilled it; you clean it!”

“What kind of bullshit-” Keith started, ready to fight. Before he could even finish his sentence, Pidge’s sharp voice cut into their argument.

“Pardon me, Keith, but WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?” She demanded, all 5’ 5’’ of her vibrating in rage. Her glare washed over both boys, effectively freaking them out.

“HE STARTED IT!” They chorused.

The young boy whistled, “Smooth, Lance,” as he threw his trash away. He was subsequently ignored as Pidge went the fuck off.

“I don’t give a damn! You said you’d bring a cart, so do it instead of whatever the fuck this is!” Suddenly focusing on the young boy, she blanched. “Shit- I mean, heck; I shouldn’t be cussing in front of kids.”

“Jamie’s heard worse from me,” Lance grumbled. “Who cares about cussing?”

“Not the point,” Keith said indignantly. “You’re so absurd! How the hell can you expect me to dry clean a T-shirt?!”

“Keith, if you don’t drop it, I’m torching your copic markers,” Pidge warned, grabbing a cart for herself. Her subordinate flinched and shut up immediately.

“Please don’t; they cost over a $100.”

Lance rolled his eyes and swept out the nearby doors. He dragged his brother along with him, ignoring his tiny complaints. “I’m watching you, nino bonito!” He called over his shoulder while they marched off. “You’re hereby blacklisted!”

“From what, you idiot?!” Keith screeched, crushing his cup in his hand. His eye twitched.

“They didn’t even buy anything,” Pidge sniffed, whirling around. “I’m getting my fucking peanut butter. Stop staring at his ass and come with.”

Not even registering her jab, Keith trailed after Pidge, complaining about the infuriatingly pretty waiter the whole way.

 

* * *

 

Hunk cheerily pulled his batch of cinnamon rolls out of the oven. It had been a long time since he’d baked, and he was enjoying himself. Nothing made him quite as happy as feeding the people he cared about, except maybe building new machines. Quite frankly, cinnamon rolls were one of his favorite things to eat too; Pidge joked it was because Hunk was a cinnamon roll, but he just thought his mom's love of them had been inherited.

Speaking of people he cared about, Hunk probably had to take these over to Keith and Pidge, along with some takeout. The pair was notorious for outright forgetting about eating unless someone reminded them, especially if they got immersed in work. The last time he'd come over with food, they'd fallen upon it like starved dogs, demolishing a whole table full of assorted sandwiches in ten minutes. Snickering at the memory, the Official Team Mom grabbed a few plastic boxes from the pantry and started sliding in the delicacy.

Hunk paused in the middle of packing all the rolls, suddenly struck by an idea. He’d been promising someone else he cared about, Lance, conchas- which, granted, these weren’t- but why couldn’t he take his old friend some homemade cinnamon rolls? Hunk hurriedly set some back in the oven to warm and left the rest for his fellow Lions.

Setting out, the cook swung by the nearest Chinese place and grabbed three bags of takeout. Keith usually complained about how the "Asian" food here wasn't really Asian, but it was quick and easy, so it'd have to do for now. He raced off again; even if it was an impromptu visit, he didn't want to keep Pidge waiting.

Hunk made it over to the pair’s large building in record time, considering the long line at Panda Express. He looked around shiftily as he drove up; Keith and Pidge co-owned a four story building in the shadier part of town, and they kept the top two wings to themselves. The bottom two wings were a safehouse for Green Lion runners, who often darted in and out between jobs. Many times, Hunk had found young kids sprawled in front of the TV or trying their hand at martial arts in the basement, all under Pidge’s watchful eye. Of course, they didn’t know she and Keith actually _lived_ there; that would be a security issue. But all Lions were still well aware that fucking up the safehouse meant Pidge coming after their asses with piano wire and a host of bad ideas.

Hunk was rather proud of the house. It was like a testament of how Green Lion all took care of each other. For a gang, they tried to keep things semi-wholesome and normal.

Key word: tried. Everyone knew the duo had a safe full of Uzis and other high capacity weapons chilling somewhere in the vicinity. And the huge mural of a green lion eating a purple bat covering the living room wall, gory detail included, probably didn’t help matters either.

Gallivanting in, Hunk sang, “I brought takeout!”

“Hunk, you’re the true lord and savior,” Keith said matter of factly, looking up from his sketchpad with a small smile. Hunk peered at his drawing, noticing it looked somewhat like a certain waiter, but the Korean slammed the book shut before he could really tell who it was.

Pidge, meanwhile, was cleaning her new Vektor SP2. Keith’s older Vektor SP1 was also in her lap, indicating that she was likely in the midst of comparing them.

“Did you bring shrimp?” She asked, rapidly reassembling the gun. “Shrimp is really all I care about.”

“Why, ‘cause you are one?” Keith snarked, only to get hit in the face with her cleaning rag. He swore at her and flung his pencil at her hand.

“Now, now, none of that. Let’s just eat, okay?”

Conversation flowed fairly smoothly as the group dug into dinner. They all chatted and laughed, occasionally making fun of each other, occasionally shrieking in laughter. It was all going pretty well until Hunk made the mistake of opening his big mouth.

“I just wish we had some more time before class started, y’know? Two weeks of extra sleep and free time really isn’t enough.”

The short girl suddenly paused. “Did… did you just say class starts in two weeks?”

“Um, yeah?”

Pidge screeched and threw the Vektor SP1 and SP2 across the room, her eyes wild and panicked. “What the fuck do you mean, class starts in two weeks?!”

Whirling on Hunk, she hissed, “You told me when this Galra shitstorm really got started that class started in a month!”  
  
“No!” Hunk exclaimed. “I said that’s when my CAD class’s _new teacher_ starts! Prof Laxus is retiring!”

“Oh my god,” the girl moaned in horror, leaping off the couch and dashing to the stairs. “I have so much fucking homework- my lit class gave that book analysis, calc and math modeling had those packets, German 3 had that whole Rosetta Stone thing, programming class required a new app prototype... I’m gonna FUCKING DIE!” She darted upstairs, pausing at the top to yell down at them. “NOBODY HAD BETTER FUCKING BOTHER ME FOR THE NEXT WEEK! OR I’LL SHOOT THEM!”

“Wait, fuck,” Keith sputtered. “What about the Galra?”  
  
“They can fuck right off! I’m gonna be busy!”

“Your food!” Having an entriely different concern, Hunk called for her, holding up her takeout box. “Aren’t you gonna finish the honey walnut shrimp?”

“Hell no, there’s no time for that! I’m gonna neglect basic human necessities like a swamp demon this whole week, because this country values grades more than students’ health! This is overtime, people, overtime!”

A second after Pidge’s rant ended, the boys heard the sound of her door slamming.

“Well,” grumbled Keith, burrowing deeper into the couch cushions. “The fuckin’ shrimp’s mine, then. You want any, Hunk?”

He only stared upstairs in mute worry and shook his head.

-

After that fiasco, Hunk swung by his family’s house to pick up the rest of his cinnamon rolls. Hopefully, their recipient would be receptive to them (and nothing would interrupt him).

Lance always did have a sweet tooth, though.

The burly boy still wasn’t sure how to act around his old friend anymore. The incident the last time they had met still had him shaken up. Lance had looked so much older than his mere 20 years, and his shaking hands and gaunt frame were more than indicative that something shitty happened to him. So the cinnamon rolls were more than a welcoming gift; they were an apology, a consolation.

The clock blinked 7:32 PM, and Hunk pulled into the apartment complex Lance and Jamie stayed in with nervousness bubbling in his stomach. He hadn’t even thought to ask Lance where he lived like a normal person; Pidge had tracked the older boy’s phone, grade A stalker style. Hunk remembered to text the waiter his question as an afterthought, so Lance wouldn’t suspect anything, but he still felt guilty.

 _But the cinnamon rolls are an apology!_ Hunk mentally justified. _For literally everything!_

_…_

_Oh, who am I fucking kidding? This doesn’t help shit_.

He strode into the building and wandered to the elevator. There was no doorman or security, which made him frown. He could already see all the weak points in the building’s exterior; this place would be terrible for any sort of gang confrontation. The boy wasn’t even sure if the cameras pointed toward the door were functional.

Stepping into the elevator, Hunk wedged the box of sweets under his arm and pressed the button for Lance’s floor. Tinny music filtered through the speakers as the machine creaked and ascended, and the closer Hunk got to judgment, the more jumbled his thoughts became.

He compulsively checked his phone. There was a Tumblr notification. His favorite recipe blog had been busy, apparently. A YouTube icon popped up in the top bar as well; there was another cat cafe stream live in Japan. He’d have to show Lance.

There came a soft _ding!,_ and the doors haltingly slid open. Lance’s door was right across from the elevator, damningly enough.

He swallowed and stepped out, striding up to the door. Taking a deep breath, he knocked, once, twice...

The door swung open before he could tap it a third.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this disaster. Ily all~
> 
> Translation: Lance called Keith "pretty boy." Like he does in. Every. Other. McFucking. Klance fic.
> 
> EDIT, 9/18/2016, 1:44 AM
> 
> Thank you for 138 kudos! You're the best. I hope you enjoy the next chap, which should be up sometime later today.
> 
> Note: CAD is Computer Aided Drawing, often used by engineering students. For the story's sake, we'll say the Garrison offers highly advanced levels of this class and all others, because quite frankly, I have no idea what the actual fuck college engineering and programming juniors should be taking. I'm a med student, ffs, this isn't my problem.


	8. as time passes by

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IT'S YOUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED GANG AU SHITSTORM! BUCKLE UP FOR- um, another drug deal!
> 
> !!! REREAD PREVIOUS CHAPTER BEFORE THIS !!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *stumbles in* I BROUGHT A CHAPTER!
> 
> Damn, considering how late I made edits, this is kinda like a double update! Cool shit, I guess.
> 
> Anyway, like I said in the summary, reread the previous chapter! I added in over a thousand words of new things, and if you don't read them, the beginning of this chapter WILL make fuck all sense.
> 
> Unfortunately, I'm probably going to have to do the same thing here. I'm really sleepy, and there's two or three scenes I must add to this to stick with my outline. I'm so sorry! *cowers* I'll try to get them up faster. _(:D) This is kinda short for this story too... I will improve in the future.
> 
> Thank you once again for 138 kudos! I love you all!
> 
> Special shoutout to content beta starryeyyyed for helping with accuracy as usual! I love you, sis :')

Hunk honest to god almost dropped his cinnamon rolls to the floor.

Standing in front of him- well, a little ways down, if he was being honest- was a young boy with large turquoise eyes and fluffy brown hair. He blinked at Hunk curiously before turning over his shoulder and calling, “Hermano! I think someone’s here to see you!”

“Coming!” Hunk heard Lance call distantly.  However, he was still preoccupied with staring at the child, or Jamie, Lance’s youngest brother. He’d met him only once, back when he’d still been in high school. Those days, Jamie had been a tiny, adorable three year old, constantly getting himself and his siblings into trouble.

Now he was certainly around six, but, like Lance, he looked older. His young features had already unconsciously morphed into a tiny pout that looked more like a frown. Hunk’s heart went out to him instantly, but before he could say anything, Lance barged into the living room and grabbed Jamie, yanking him back from the open door and slipping into the space between him and Hunk.

“Who in the hell- oh. Oh, shit, it’s just you, Hunk.” Lance swore, placing a hand over his heart. “I was about to freak the fuck out. Come in, I guess.”

Hunk blinked and stepped in, unsure what to say. He settled for, “I come bearing cinnamon rolls! Thought we could catch up- that cool with you?”

“Yeah, man, of course. I’m off right now anyway.” Lance smiled and flopped down on his worn green couch. Jamie, meanwhile, tried to slip away, but his older brother caught him by the back of his shirt.

“Ah, ah, brat,” he admonished, scowling. “Did I or did I not tell you to quit opening the door when I’m not there?”

“You said not to in case a bad person was there,” Jamie mumbled. “But there wasn’t!”  
  
“There could’ve been! Say sorry for freaking me out; come on, kiddo, I’m too young for heart attacks.”

“Sorry, hermano,” the kid chanted, but he rolled his eyes when he thought Lance couldn’t see.

“Go back to practice now, kiddo. Addition isn’t gonna do itself!”

“Aww, really?” Jamie whined and traipsed off, presumably to his room. An even larger pout was on his face as he returned to the inevitable doom of math. Hunk contemplated telling him it would only get harder, but decided that might result in a tantrum.

Lance turned back to him with an exasperated smile. “Well, that’s one problem solved.”

“Little siblings are a handful, huh?” Hunk replied knowingly. “Akela and Ahe used to do the same thing; Kai and I really had our hands full making sure they wouldn’t run off or get into trouble.”

“It’s so haaaard,” Lance groaned, smashing his face into the pillow. “He’s so hyper- I constantly have to stop him from getting into shit. Just today I had to calm down the staff of a Safeway because he fucking stole a Twix bar! Who the hell even taught him that?”

“I don’t know, dude, but here’s some sweets you don’t have to steal. Homemade cinnamon rolls!” He presented his old friend the box with a flourish, and the blue eyed boy gasped dramatically.

“Before my eyes I see the promised land: Hunk Kahele has brought me food!” He gasped, placing his hand over his brow. Hunk started cackling at his over the top reaction, and Lance dissolved into giggles too.

For a moment, everything was like it used to be: he and Lance laughing over something stupid, sharing food and each other’s company like there had never been anything else. But Hunk couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting away from Lance and over the apartment’s interior.

The walls were cracked and spattered with peeling brown paint. The dining table teetered dangerously on one leg, and the carpet was at least three different colors from old stains. All the furniture seemed old and worn, and the appliances looked ready to fall apart. Even the TV was smaller than Hunk had seen in years, not to mention it was cracked at the top left corner.

Hunk’s gaze drifted back to Lance, who was smiling fondly at the cinnamon rolls. He had no idea how appalled the other boy really was. The more Hunk stared though, the more sadness he could see in the downward slope of Lance’s thin shoulders, in the pools of his exhausted blue eyes. It hurt to watch.

_Christ, Lance, one way or another, I’m going to find out who or what put you in this situation._

_And when I do… well, there’s a reason I have a sawed off shotgun._

 

* * *

_Yesterday, before he’d gone to sleep, he’d made an order. 400mg, only $40. Apparently, antidepressants came at a low price in the gang world. He was ever grateful for his coworker’s help; he never would’ve known such a sweet girl was involved in a gang, but now it had come in handy._

_At five in the morning, he had a place to be. Hopefully, his brother wouldn’t be awake to see it._

 

* * *

 

Keith woke at the crack of dawn the next morning, irritatingly enough. He scowled at his ceiling and kicked his red comforter to the floor, knowing he had no choice but to get up. His constant restlessness was such a bitch.

Hauling himself off his bed and walking to the bathroom with fresh clothes in hand, he hummed placatingly to himself. Early morning seemed like a damn nice time for a jog, now that he thought about it. He could be productive if he put his mind to it.

The thug paused at Pidge’s room, hearing the strangely audible, rapid fire clack of keys from behind her closed door. He wasn’t quite _that_ productive. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a piece of paper, scribbled “you can do it, bitch, peanut butter believes in you” on it with a pencil he’d picked off the floor, and shoved it under her door. The brunette would see it eventually.

Keith ghosted out the entrance, feeling cold air whip his face. Autumn was really starting to set in; eventually, the trees would change colors and scatter their dead leaves over the streets. He looked forward to that time, where the temperature evened out and the scenery morphed to hues of red, orange, and gold. It was his favorite time of year.

He slipped his headphones on and started running without direction, weaving his way through the alleys like a true street brat. The pattern of rhythmic steps and harsh breaths continued for twenty minutes as he followed the beats of his music.

Really, Keith was just minding his own business when he spotted Lance duck into the alley.

 _What the fuck?_ He thought. _The fuck is he doing- that’s dealer territory back there. He’s gonna get himself killed._

So naturally, Keith followed along, keeping a safe distance just in case shady shit was happening. He had his knife and Glock with him (he never left the house without packing), bur he wasn’t going to take his chances.

What Keith ended up seeing was more than shocking. He hurriedly paused his music and took refuge to watch the scene unobtrusively.

Lance stood near a decrepit metal fire escape with a young runner, a Green Lion one at that. He knew immediately when he saw the wristband, one in a very particular shade of green that Pidge favored.

“Here you go,” the runner announced, handing an envelope over from her bag. Keith’s eyes widened. He hadn’t known Lance was a user. Pidge’s earlier comment, the one about Lance falling in with gangs, didn’t sound so farfetched anymore.

“Thank you,” the waiter mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut and passing her the payment.

The runner nodded and skipped off, heading in Keith’s direction. He flattened himself against the dumpster he was using as cover, mouth set in a hard line. He peered over again once the girl’s footsteps had stopped.

“Aren’t you a little young for this?” Lance had asked before she’d left. He sounded forlorn.

“Not really. Boss was like, fourteen when he started.”

Lance exhaled slowly and turned aside just as the runner came close to the biker. She passed right by Keith, and his arm shot out to grab a fistful of her jacket, knowing Lance had gone the other way. He dragged the girl behind the dumpster and spun her around, hoping no one had heard her high pitched yelp.

“The fuck are you doing telling people about Boss? Watch your mouth,” Keith hissed. Protecting Pidge was his damn job, and it was critical to the survival of the whole gang.

“Red!” She gasped, her dark eyes going wide with fear. “I’m sorry!”

“Whatever. Listen, what did you fucking give that guy?”

Suddenly becoming defensive, she frowned. “Hey, I cleared it with my handler! Why do you car- ack!” She yelped as Keith reached into her jacket’s inner pocket and yanked out her delivery list. “Give that back; it’s important!”

“I outrank all of you, and I know what this is, brat,” Keith snapped. “I know that fucker back there too, and he has no reason to be getting drugs…”

Except maybe he did.

Right next to the 5:25 AM timestamp scrawled on the paper were the words “Prozac, 400mg.”

Keith shoved the list back into her hand and turned toward the direction Lance had gone. A frown tugged his lips into a dark, pensive look.

“Hunk was fucking right,” he hissed over the girl’s angry muttering. “But now he’s involved with Green Lion shit.”

_For the love of fuck, everything seems to be getting more complicated._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, how was that? How many questions do you have now? Will I ever stop asking my OWN questions? Who knows!
> 
> Feedback makes me dance in joy; leave some if you wish.
> 
> Blizzard out (to McFucking sleep. Let her rest 2kForever).
> 
> AH! I almost forgot! Thank a commenter for wondering if Jamie stole the Twix bar last chapter- it was honestly a great idea. I didn't think of it at all until they mentioned it :P My son used to be wholesome... back in the day...


	9. we only mess it up even more

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I literally start this thing off with murder, so. Um. Be careful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *crashes through the ceiling, this disaster clutched firmly in my hand* TAKE IT AWAY, BOYS!
> 
> Hi, hello, how are you? I'm dying, as usual.
> 
> Anyway, I'm sooo sorry I missed last week's update! I was hit in the face with assignments, and I completed no edits or anything. As such, I'm REALLY behind my schedule, and I'm screaming on the inside. This accomplishes what I meant it to do, although it's an unbeta'd disaster. I'm really trying to not fail. But it's hard _(:D) thank you for your patience and kind words.
> 
> A bigger thank you for 142 kudos; I love you.

Trembling with fear and shock, she clutched the corner of the wall. The scene before her was horrific and gory; it looked like a screenshot from one of those FPS games her brother was so fond of.

The trails of blood spatter crawled up the brick wall like bursts of spray paint from a near empty can, clear evidence that the other runners- oh god, her  _ friends _ \- had been lined up and shot fucking execution style. The congealed pools of blood spreading out from their bodies trailed all the way over to where she was standing, the crumpled delivery list Red had shoved into her fist only ten minutes ago soaked in it. It lay in the puddle of crimson directly in front of her; she hadn’t been able to hold on to it when she’d seen…

That.

Shaking, she slipped her hand into her pocket and groped for her phone. She pressed the emergency call button.

One ring, two rings… “911, what is your emergency?”

“My friends are dead,” she choked out. Her harsh breaths made a sound like static on the line. “They- oh god, they were shot. All five of them."

She was so caught up in trying not to cry that she didn’t hear the soft footsteps trailing toward her. The person making their way toward her casually withdrew a knife from their pocket.

“Miss, where are you? I’ve notified the police, and they’re on their way to you, but you have to tell me where you are.”

“In- in an alley behind the jewelry store, the one on-”

A scream. Static. The phone hit the ground so hard its screen cracked. It tumbled into the pool of blood, face first.

The operator panicked, his calm facade cracking into a few thousand pieces. “Miss? Miss!”

The line went dead.

A sixth body hit the ground with a sickening thud.

With a jaunty whistle, the person tucked their knife back into their violet jacket. From a small backpack, they withdrew a can of purple spray paint. They walked to the wall, still spattered with a fine mist of copper from before, and wrote a simple message.

**_Galra’s coming, Lions._ **

Sirens sounded in the distance, their mournful wails startling people from their slumber.

 

* * *

Pidge woke up with a start around 8:30 in the morning. Groaning, she raised her head from the textbook she’d fallen asleep on and squinted at the light seeping through her door. Why was it open? She hadn’t opened it in days.

Or was it hours? She wasn’t really sure how much time had passed. Pidge was only certain of this: she’d downed two Monsters and a Rockstar the second she’d slammed her door shut the first time and gotten to work. Her math packets and Rosetta Stone levels were done, and she’d been around halfway through her new app before the energy drinks quit on her. She’d passed out so fast that her head had slammed against the desk, which woke her up enough to slump over Math Modeling for Dummies and rest there.

“Holy shit, I need to pee. And shower- showering would be a good plan…” the golden eyed girl muttered to herself. She stiffly rose from her chair and padded over to the bathroom.

After doing her business, brushing her teeth, and taking a quick shower, Pidge sleepily wandered back to her bedroom, where she finally realized why her door had been open. Evidently Hunk had barged in and left a motherly note on her bed, telling her in a kind tone to get the fuck out of her room and come eat something.

Pidge rolled her eyes, quickly dressing and tying her hair into a short, puffy ponytail. Once the hair was so long, it spiraled down her back when she tied it up, stopping around her shoulder blades. After an unfortunate incident that ended with her shooting someone for the first time, she ended up cutting it all off.

She missed it, just a little.

Upon starting to wander downstairs, Pidge felt an immediate change in mood that had her rushing back to her room for a weapon. She ducked under her bed and grabbed her Vektor. Apparently, she was taking the new gun for a test drive today.

“What the fuck is going on,” she demanded, swooping down the stairs. A throng of runners, thugs, and other members of her gang were clustered around the TV, all looking horrorstruck and furious. Keith and Hunk were standing behind the sofa like guard dogs; Keith’s mouth was pinched in an angry frown, and Hunk seethed quietly, hands clamped over the back of the old furniture.

“Boss, you gotta see this,” a thug answered, pointing at the TV. Her head whipped around to stare at the screen, where a breaking news bulletin was flashing.

A pained looking newscaster stood at a table, a green screen behind her showing footage of a horde of police cars clustered around a jewelry store. She took a deep breath and started speaking.

“Breaking news from the Altean capital; the bodies of six teenagers have been found in an alleyway behind Balmeran Jewelers. Five were executed in what appears to be firing squad style, and the last had her throat slit.”

Pidge frowned, her sleep addled brain trying in vain to connect this to the concern of the people overtaking her living room. “What exactly does this have to do-”

The newscaster interrupted the gang leader with a soft exclamation. “Police have identified the teenagers; 15 year old James Martinez, 14 year old Joey Smith, 17 year old Alice Chong, 16 year old Jomo Kamau, 14 year old Marissa Dupain, and 16 year old Alyssa Tan.”

The immediate grief on the faces of the runners shocked Pidge into realization. Those were her people. 

Green Lion runners.

“There are no confirmed suspects yet,” the woman continued, her voice tinny through the speakers. “However, a message left behind at the scene of the crime points to it being the result of a turf dispute between drug trafficking gangs Green Lion and Galra. The instigators appear to be the Galra, as the message simply reads ‘Galra’s coming, Lions.’”

Pidge swiped the remote from the hand of a slack jawed thug, turned off the bulletin, and whirled to face Keith. “Red, when the fuck was this,” she spat, her voice cold and deadly.

“This morning,” Keith informed. His features twisted uncomfortably. “I- I actually talked to Alyssa Tan when I went on my run. That was around… 5:25? I grabbed her after a deal, because I saw her talking to-”

Here his eyes flicked nervously to Hunk. The girl clicked her tongue, knowing that look warranted a private conversation between her and her boys.

“Someone I knew.” Keith continued. “She was on her way to a deal near that area; I saw it on her delivery list, but I have no clue if it was for a regular or not.”

“Find out,” Pidge hissed. “We thought those bastards running on our turf was a problem- now they’re killing our members. This is fucking war.”

Turning to the small crowd, she barked, “The rest of you fucks better be careful. If you see shit, tell us. If you KNOW shit, then we have to know. Now. Any words?”

A thug raised a hand. Hunk nodded tersely at them, permitting the gangly youth to speak.

“My sista, she hangs around wi’ Galra even though I keep tellin’ her not to. Yesterday, I heard one of them talkin’ to her about ‘teaching those pansy cats a lesson.’”

“And you didn’t clip them?” Keith snapped, rounding on the speaker. They flinched and tried to scramble out of his reach.

“No, I jus’- I didn’t know what he meant by that! I can lead you to those assholes though!”

“Show Red,” Pidge directed. She rhythmically clicked the saftey on her gun on and off. Runners watched the movement warily, and she hissed, stowing it in her pocket. “This ends fucking now- no one kills kids like that and gets away with it.”

“Yes, Boss,” everyone chanted hurriedly. 

“Get out of here unless you need a place to lie low. I have shit to do. Red! Gold! Come with me.”

Pidge stalked back upstairs, her schoolwork forgotten. Keith and Hunk followed at her heels, exchanging a worried glance as they went.

 

* * *

Shiro and Allura stood side by side in the foyer of the Singh family’s grand house, watching Allura’s father, Alfor, angrily pace back and forth. The Chief of Police was supposed to have a day off in order to help with some traditional wedding plans, but after the events of this morning, he was debating whether or not to go to work.

“I don’t think I can leave this to Assistant Chief,” Alfor muttered. He paused in his pacing to look at the couple apologetically. “I’m sorry, dear, I think I should go in today. It’s a high profile case. But I’m afraid I don’t have all the details from the brief segment I caught from the news. Can either of you fill me in?”

Shiro stepped forward immediately. “Six teenagers were murdered early this morning, between 5:30 and 6:00. Five were shot execution style, and the last, who arrived late and called 911, had her throat slit. A message spray painted on the wall indicates that it was gang violence.”

“I’m assuming it was between Galra and Green Lion, as usual. What was the message?”

“‘Galra’s here, Lions,’”  Allura quoted. “Father, we would like to help you with the investigation.”

“Absolutely; if there’s anything you know or hear, please don’t hesitate to tell me,” the man replied warmly. “I’ll leave soon. Please call me if there’s something urgent.”

He quickly hurried upstairs, leaving the couple alone in the foyer. Allura looked toward the ground.

“I always feel awful when I hear the news these days,” she confided. “It reminds me that even though I became a doctor, I can’t help everyone.”

“I understand,” Shiro replied quietly. And he did- how could he not? As a soldier, the need to help and protect had defined a good majority of his life. It was why his failure to save Katie still stung.

Suddenly, the thought of Katie in combination with the gangs gave him an idea.

_ We always wondered where she had to go, if there was no family available. What if she turned to a gang? _

“Shiro?” Allura asked, touching his hand anxiously. “Are you alright?”

Shiro turned to her immediately, and she saw hope dawning on his face. “I just had a thought- I think that learning about these gangs is important to another case. Wanna help?”

Allura smiled. “Of course.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was that? Please give me feedback- I enjoy comments like nothing else.
> 
> ALSO. I took a shitload of fucking liberties with the whole Chief of Police thing. The way I'm setting it up is like Death Note, with Light helping out Chief Yagami and his officers with investigations and generally being way more involved than he should be. Allura pops in to Alfor's work and points things out, talks to people for him, etc.
> 
> Except, um. Allura and Shiro are not deranged college kids with notebooks that can kill people.
> 
> Notes: FPS is first person shooter, an acronym for the style of a lot of popular games.
> 
> Fun fact: This story was originally called "Dead Leaves," after a different song by the same band that sang the song it's currently named for. However, I realized it didn't fit the story very much, so I discarded it. 
> 
> (It also kinda has the same initials as a fic so popular, I feel unworthy just reading it, so I scrapped that shit faster than some of my awful art pieces.)


	10. a little more like this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why.
> 
> I mean, there's a death mention, but really, this thing is tame. Keith and Lance flirt. Pidge angsts. Hunk shows up for... two lines. I'm sorry, Hunk- I promise I love you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rolls up* Hi, it's your regularly scheduled shitstorm!
> 
> I wrote this all today, and I'm,,, kinda proud,,, please appreciate it.
> 
> Thank you for 146 kudos! Also, this has almost as many subscribers as my other fic, which is surprising. Thanks~
> 
> Fun fact: with this chapter, my fic is getting closer and closer to matching my outline. Bless up.

The two weeks after the murders passed without incident. Lance was still on edge after hearing the news, still watched Jamie like a hawk, but nothing else seemed to have happened.

Well, nothing bad, anyway. Altea’s world renowned college, Galaxy Garrison, had opened its doors to thousands of students a few days prior. As such, the amount of customers coming to the cafe fluctuated wildly; some regular students disappeared in the wake of their classes, and dozens more flooded in to take their place. Lance had kept busy with the workload, ie daily suffering.

However, going back on his meds had been a huge help. He finally had energy again. The world didn’t seem so bleak; every day seemed less difficult. When Shay’s birthday came up, Lance was going to get her a huge gift.

The door swung open again, prompting Lance to look up with his patented Customer Service Smile™, the one that hid how dead inside he was. He wasn’t expecting to see the customer he did.

The first thing Lance’s thirsty ass noticed was that he was absurdly attractive. Tall, well built, gentle smile- he had it all. The second thing he noticed was that this customer had a really cool prosthetic arm, definitely part of the new line the Garrison graduates had designed a few months back.

The third thing he noticed was the man peering anxiously at him and asking, “Are you okay?”

“Oh, whoops! I’m so sorry,” Lance replied nervously. “I just spaced out for a second. What can I get you?”

“Medium black tea, two sugars, and a medium hazelnut latte, to go.”

“Name on the order?” Lance drawled, plucking the cups from their stand.

“Shiro.”

“Mkay, your total is $6.32.”

When he took out his wallet, Lance realized that the stranger, like the gorgeous woman he’d seen talking to Coran, had an engagement ring.

_ Damn, _ the blue eyed boy thought ruefully.  _ Oh well, he’s out of my league. Probably way older than me too. _

Shiro handed Lance the bills, but as he did, his wallet slipped from his hand, skidded across the counter, and landed on the tile behind it with a soft thump.

He looked at it despondently. “Shit, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it; I’ll get it,” Lance reassured. He quickly stooped down and grabbed the wallet, only to pause upon seeing the photos in the first clear billfold.

The boy and girl standing together in one of the pictures looked… really familiar.

It clicked in Lance’s head after he’d returned the wallet to its owner, handed the customer his coffee, and watched him go with a falsely cheerful, “Come again!”

That boy looked like Pidge.

-

Right before the end of Lance’s shift, someone barged in, speaking very angrily in another language.

“... _jigeum_! Ann **yeong** , Min-ssi.” There was a soft beep signaling the call had ended. “Fucking idiot,” the person muttered. “Three million won, gone.”

Lance blearily looked up at- a pissed off Keith. “Oh, it’s Mullet Man. What do you want?”

“Coffee with five shots of vodka,” the black haired boy ground out. “The only way to cope with the stupidity I just heard is getting shitfaced.”

“No vodka here, dude. Try the bar three streets down. Espresso?”

“Hit me,” Keith ordered, shoving his phone back in his pocket with a little too much force. “It’s to go, by the way.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Lance sniffed, quickly getting Keith his coffee. “Don’t you go to the Garrison? You should be in class, truant.”

“Can’t stand Iverson,” he replied. “Had to ditch. And I thought Hunk said YOU went to the Garrison too. What the hell are you doing, then?”

Lance had to hide his wince. He’d lied to Hunk without even thinking about it. Going to the STEM oriented university was his childhood dream, but when he’d ended up supporting Jamie, he couldn’t continue his education. Of course he wasn’t going to the Garrison- he didn’t have a chance in hell of funding that.

“Maybe I have a free period. Maybe I take night classes. You don’t know my life.”  _ You really fucking don’t. _

“Whatever,” Keith replied, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, listen: Hunk’s being a giant mom again, so he wants us all to be friends, blah, blah, blah. Do you have Kik?”

“Are you a fuckboy trying to ask for nudes?” Lance said in mock horror, backing up with a hand over his heart. He heard Shay choke on her drink behind him and inwardly apologized as he steamrollered right on. “I am a child of God; I don’t send nudes.”

“Why do I talk to you?” Keith deadpanned. “No, asshat. I have to add you to the group chat. With me, Hunk, and Pidge. He forgot to ask you when he was over at your place.”

“Ohh. Fine, it’s @bluerobocat. Otherwise known as ‘Dab Master.’”

Keith scoffed. “You, sir, are a loser.”

“At least I don’t have terrible hair~” Lance sang in response, dancing away from Keith’s attempts to smack him. He was lying here too: Keith’s hair was, dare he say it… cute. And it looked so soft.

Suddenly, the Korean looked at the time and swore softly. “I have to go. I’ll add you later though.”

“Don’t spill your drink on anyone on your way out!” Lance yelled as he left.

Keith flipped him off over his shoulder.

Lance’s shoulders shook with suppressed laughter as he went to clock out. A minute after he left the cafe and started walking to his car, his phone buzzed with a message.

_ A minute ago: Red Power Ranger added you to the chat. _

_ Red Power Ranger >> @we dem lions _

**just want you all to know lance is an asshole**

**Dab is typing…**

**excuse u im delightful**

**5001 is typing…**

**who tf is this wtf keith you are RUINING the sanctity of my good group chat??**

**Red is typing…**

**it’s lance yknow hunk’s friend**

**Mom is typing…**

**yaaaay!!!! hi lance i missed you**

**5001 is typing…**

**blocked. blocked. you’re all blocked. NONE of you are free of sin**

**Dab is typing…**

**pidge y don’t u love me T_T**

**Red is typing…**

**pidge has a cold dead soul and loves nothing but peanut butter**

**5001 is typing…**

**y’all gotta fuck off already my lit teacher’s pissed tty hoes later**

**and you’re wrong keith, i also love my technology, my sweet sweet technology**

**Mom is typing…**

**oh no pidge don’t get in trouble!!! see you later**

If anyone passed by Lance then, they would’ve seen a ridiculous smile overtaking his face.

 

* * *

Pidge put away her phone, biting her lip anxiously. She knew she looked like a complete wreck at the moment, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

The past two weeks had sent her already tragic backstory of a life straight to hell. The murders had caused a fuckton of issues for Green Lion; they had to deal with the ramifications of losing six of their own, who were just goddamn children, they were down runners, and their clients were pissed about not getting their fixes on time. Pidge and Keith had their hands completely full trying to track down the killer(s), but they’d had about as much luck as the police, AKA none at all. She’d still had an approximate shitton of work to do, and the whole mess had downgraded it to a fuckton.

Did Pidge say downgrade? She meant upgrade.

In the end, she’d slapped some bullshit on her papers the night before class started and prayed to a God she didn’t believe in.

On top of all that, today was the anniversary of her father and brother’s deaths.

Suffice to say Pidge was strung out and sad enough to have not heard a single word her professors had said the whole day. At least this class was over. The brunette grabbed her bag and stiffly moved to the door, wondering if she should just ditch the rest of the day.

Before Pidge could leave, the professor, Munch, stopped her.

“Pidge?” she asked, sounding vaguely cross. The girl wondered if she’d noticed her supposed good student had been texting.

“Yes, Professor?” Pidge asked dully.

“Your work was at the top of the stack of papers, and I happened to read some of it intermittently. I must say I’m already a bit disappointed in the quality of your analysis. As someone who received such a high score on the entrance exam, second only to a child genius. I was anticipating much better. Do try to improve.” Munch lectured.

“Yes, Professor,” Pidge repeated. Her shoulders slumped slightly as she left the room and trailed down the hallway. She knew she hadn’t done her best, but being called out in such a way hurt like hell. It wasn’t her fault the bitch had decided to show up with high standards.

She remembered the first time she’d taken the entrance exam when she was 13, keyed up on adrenaline and the thrill of possibly being called out. To her surprise, the exam proctor had only given her ACT score or 32 a cursory glance and let her at it.

_ Katie did well, _ she mused, looking at the bulletin boards tacked to the walls as she wandered  farther and farther away from where her next class was. Pidge had been shocked when she found out she’d gotten a lower score the second time taking the test. It had only been by two points, but she was astounded on principle; thirteen year old her had outperformed sixteen year old her. 

_ Maybe it was because the second time around, I had a breakdown into Hunk’s shirt right before taking the fucking thing. _

Upset and exhausted, Pidge paused before an exit.  _ Screw this,  _ she thought.  _ I’m gonna go visit my family. _

The golden eyed girl shoved open the doors and walked out, pulling the hood of her black jacket over her head as she did.

-

The cemetery was quiet, as usual. Pidge stepped out of her car and grabbed for the flowers she’d left in the front seat this morning. Thankfully, they hadn’t wilted.

She swept past row of graves. By now she could walk the path to her family’s resting place in her sleep, having made the trip more times than she could count. She reached the graves and placed a bouquet on each one- black and red roses for her mother, who she’d never known, and her father and brother’s favorite flowers, calla lilies.

Pidge sat cross legged before the tombstones and read them over like she’d never seen them before. Her fingers traced the letters of the inscriptions absentmindedly, slightly pained that the newer stones had no complex epitaphs.

 

Mary Rose Holt

1960-1998

“To be brave is to love unconditionally.”

A devoted wife and mother; she will be missed.

 

Samuel Peter Holt

1954-2011

Loving father and husband.

 

Matthew Andrew Holt

1987-2011 

Loving brother and fiance.

 

Taking a deep breath, Pidge started to speak. “Hey, Mom, Dad, Mattie. It’s been a while.”

 

* * *

Shiro left work early to visit the cemetery, deciding not to tell his boss about his sudden departure. The woman was fair, though; she wouldn’t be too angry if he explained.

The man stopped by a shop selling flowers on the way, picking up two large bouquets of calla lilies for Sam and Matt. After a moment of deliberation, he asked for a bunch of sunflowers as well, deigning to give them to Mary. Though Shiro had never met the woman, since she had died in childbirth long before he’d ever met Matt, he’d heard so many good things about her. She deserved an offering too.

“Surprising your wife, young man?” The kindly old shop lady asked. Shiro looked from the flowers to his engagement ring.

“Er, no- she doesn’t like flowers that much. They’re for family,” the veteran responded awkwardly. Samuel and Matt had been family to him anyway: his partner and surrogate father. Judging by the stories Matt had told him about Mary, she would’ve treated Shiro like a son too.

“Well, I hope they like them,” she said, nodding. “Goodbye, sonny.”

“Goodbye, ma’am,” Shiro replied, slipping out the door.

The drive to the cemetery was time to gather his scattered emotions and figure out what he was going to say. He knew mentioning his engagement to Allura was important, but what else? The rest of his life wasn’t terribly exciting.

Shiro reached the cemetery far too quickly. There was only one other car in the parking lot, indicating that he would have complete private time with the Holts. 

He walked the worn path through several rows, only to pause in shock before reaching his destination.

There was a figure clad entirely in black sitting in front of the Holt family’s graves. They spoke softly, but due to the silence in the graveyard, Shiro was able to hear them.

“...I’ve learned to stop thinking about it. But Katie… Katie is still the same, scared little girl, no matter how hard she tries to pretend she isn’t. And she misses you.”

The figure stood. Pale hands sneaked out from underneath their sleeves and brushed away the errant soil clinging to their tight jeans. “See you, Mattie, Samuel, Mary,” they murmured. “Rest well.”

They ambled off, not noticing the dumbstruck Shiro a few meters away. He dazedly watched them climb into the matte black ‘07 Camry sitting in the parking lot and speed away, far too fast for him to read the license plate.

The man numbly made his way to the graves. On Mary’s was a vibrant bunch of dual colored roses, a very unassuming flower.

On Samuel and Matt’s lay calla lilies, the same kind currently clutched in his hand.

Shiro turned toward the parking lot, letting the flowers slip from his fingers.

_ That person said Matt’s nickname, the one he only let a few people use. That person knew about the calla lilies. _

_ That person knows Katie. She’s alive. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy howdy, are these notes gonna be long. I hope you get through them. They're out of order af, but they're all relevant.
> 
> 1\. Pidge views herself as two different people: Katie, the naive child who "died" in the car crash with her parents, and Pidge, the gang member who takes no shit. She only occasionally acknowledges that Pidge is also Katie.
> 
> 2\. You can in fact take the ACT in middle school, which I did. I got a 25 the first time and a 29 the second. Clearly, Pidge is smarter than me, but it's not impossible.
> 
> 3\. Black roses mean death and farewell. Red roses normally mean romantic love, but in this context they mean courage and respect. Calla lilies, on the other hand, mean magnificent beauty and overcoming challenges, as well as faith, purity, and innocence of youth. 
> 
> 4\. The three words of Korean in this just mean, "...now! GoodBYE, Mr. Min." In the same vein,"won" does not mean the English verb. It's Korean currency- I believe the exchange rate is like yen; 100 to one dollar. I'm still looking for a Korean beta reader... please help me stop failing.
> 
> I hate using race descriptors as epithets, but I only have a select few for each character, so I keep repeating them and have to scramble for new ones. Goddamn it.
> 
> The only reason I picked calla lilies was because I deadass couldn't think of any other flower.
> 
> Munch was the name of my fourth grade teacher. She and I hated each other. Fuck you, Mrs. Munch.
> 
> There's really glaring references to memes in here... I hope someone notices.
> 
> Anyway, bye kids, Blizzard out. Please comment or award author the sweet, tender embrace of death.


	11. more insecure, more dangerous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I kill off more characters! No one is safe from my destructive little hands, no one. 
> 
> Except no one dies on screen- we just have death mentions. Oops.
> 
> We finally find out who Areum is, and there's yet another bonding moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyooo, it's me, doing my thing. I'm tired as always, but I had a fun time writing this. 
> 
> Very sadly, it threw me off my outline by... a lot. This is unfortunate. Looks like you guys are gonna get closer to 25 chapters and 5 interludes instead of 20 chapters and 5 interludes. Oh, well. More for you.
> 
> Thank you for over 150 kudos! Milestone reached!
> 
> Anyway, the thing I'm most happy about! The wonderful eanariesilver drew art for this! It's here on her blog: http://eanariesilver.tumblr.com/post/151848190811/some-art-for-coffeetyphoon-s-amazing-fic-insecure, and here on mine: http://coffeetyphoon.tumblr.com/post/151850447264/eanariesilver-some-art-for-coffeetyphoon-s. The only difference is mine has my reaction, which is screaming. And thus, this chapter is dedicated to her, as well as my friend AlishaV, whose birthday was recently. Love you both!

**_Allura wandered aimlessly through the field. There was nothing there, no one around her for miles. Reddish flowers bloomed wherever she stepped, but she couldn’t look at them clearly. Everything seemed distorted and oddly colored, like the woman was viewing the whole world through a kaleidoscope that had shattered._ **

**_She didn’t like it._ **

**_“Father?” she called like a scared child. “Mother? Shiro?”_ **

**_Silence greeted her. It pressed down on her like a thick blanket, heavier and heavier, weighing her down until she couldn’t_ ** **breathe** **_-_ **

**_The flowers burst into a whirlwind of flames and consumed her._ **

Allura woke up with a startled gasp. Next to her, Shiro’s eyes flew open in panic.

“‘Llura?” He mumbled wearily. She looked at him, guilt welling up within.

“I had a bad dream. It’s nothing; you can go back to sleep.”

Her fiance sat up and scooted closer to her, sleepy worry making his features soft. “You can talk about it. That’s what I used to do for Mattie whenever he had a nightmare.”

Allura hummed, twining her fingers with his. The mention of the other man made her realize she knew very little about Matt Holt, despite all the times he’d been mentioned in her presence. Mentally, the woman reviewed her information on the Holt family, acting like a tactician plotting points on a map.

Matt, a young researcher with wild hair and wilder dreams, who wanted to work for NASA and had very nearly gotten there before a truck crashed into the family Prius and crushed the front seats under its weight.

His mother, Mary, dead before Shiro had even met her. His father, Samuel, gone in the same car crash that had killed Matt. An emotional statement from the last passenger in the car indicated that it was his fault the accident had happened. 

Said last passenger: his younger sister, Katie, who had vanished years ago and still haunted Shiro’s thoughts with every breath she could’ve taken under his watchful eye. The same Katie who, after yesterday, the veteran was convinced was alive.

Allura made a quick decision. “You should talk about all of it, you know.”

“All of what?” Shiro questioned, turning to look at her stiffly. The small beam of moonlight peeking through the curtains made his skin glow, ghostlike, as if he wasn’t there at all. Maybe this was another dream. Maybe she would wake up in another world.

2 AM made Allura feel that way: the world seemed muted and grey, sounds played back in layers, her own thoughts clamored in the back of her head incessantly.

“I don’t know. Matt. Katie. Even that boy you met once in Korea nine years ago, the one who had the jacket so red you still remember its exact shade. Your whole life story, the weird dreams you had as a kid, the exact consistency of a chocolate chip cookie- I just want to hear something.”

“So we’re filling up the silence?” He clarified, lying back down and gently tugging her down until she was curled against his side.

Allura looked at the blankets.  _ It’s not just that, _ she wanted to say.  _ It’s because I know you well, I can tell I do, but I still don’t know everything. And there’s so much pain in your past, and confusion, and regret, and I want to take it away. _

“I’ve never liked the silence.” She answered haltingly, and she knew Shiro took it as a yes.

 

-  


 

Morning came too quickly after that, and Allura woke up awkwardly sprawled across Shiro like another blanket. Quietly whining in petulant frustration, she dragged herself away from his warmth and went to change and shower. 

One of the few things she regretted about becoming a doctor was all the lost sleep. From the amount of time she’d lost in a myriad of college all nighters to the hours she had now, she was behind a couple years when it came to resting. Allura had made her choice when she was a child though, and was now forced to quietly endure her schedule with a few dozen cups of tea a week before moving on.

The woman tied her clouds of hair back in a strict bun and traipsed down to the kitchen, where she started to brew traditional chai before deciding she would just swing by the cafe that Shiro had gone to yesterday. The hazelnut latte the man had gotten her had been surprisingly good, and she was mostly sure getting another one wouldn’t hurt. Mostly.

Except Allura kind of didn’t have time to debate this, so her decision was already made.

She hurried out into the driveway and slipped into her car, speeding off. Shiro would awake a few minutes later to the smell of something burning.

 

* * *

Keith, Pidge, and Hunk crowded around their usual table in Arusian. All quietly worked on assignments while they sipped their drinks and munched on a few lemon bars, getting a mess of crumbs and in Keith’s unfortunate case, macchiato, over their papers. Hunk had quietly snuck his own coffee cake onto the table at some point, and now it was also gone. The atmosphere was quiet and easy, punctuated by the muted coming and going of other people.

Deciding he’d had enough of work, the young Korean tossed his pen on the table. Pidge looked up at the clatter of it rolling across the wood.

“Giving up, Red?” she said lightly, turning the page she was on and picking up a pink highlighter. A precarious stack of books teetered next to the utensil she’d just grabbed, and she steadied them absentmindedly.

“It’s two weeks in, and I’m already done,” he replied in irritation. “I’ve never cared about anything but flying, yet they expect me to put up with this vector crap? Fuck no- I did my time in high school. In Korea.”

“You slept through your classes in high school, in Korea,” Pidge mocked under her breath. “And you didn’t even go to school here! Green Lion provided money so you could test into the Garrison, and mind you, we gave Iverson a hell of a lot.”

“It’s necessary though,” Hunk pointed out before Keith could knock the girl’s books into her face. He took a long drink of his coffee and nearly spilled half of it on his calculator in the process. Keith snorted, deciding to end the conversation.

“Forget talking about college right now, okay?”

The brown haired gangster rolled her eyes. “Wanna talk about the bat bitches then? Because we still haven’t found the fuckers who killed our kids. I’m about ready to march into that shitty bar downtown that they own and light the place up with my M-15s.”

“Bad plan, VERY bad plan,” Hunk hissed instantly. “We could infiltrate the place, use a runner as a decoy if we want info. Or just intimidate a few guys. What you said is-”

“Something like I would say,” Keith interrupted. He frowned and stared Pidge down, watching as she uncharacteristically curled into her viridian sweater. A highlighter slipped from her hand, landing softly in her lap. The circles under her eyes were dark and badly obscured with concealer, and her hair was a wilder rat’s nest then normal. All of it pointed to something being very wrong.

“I mean, that’s just reckless. You’re supposed to be the logical person here! But you’ve been weird since yesterday, Pidge, what the fuck happened?” The dark haired boy pressed.

His leader’s face twisted into a dark scowl. “I visited someone’s grave yesterday, okay? You of all people should know what that’s like. It just- it took a lot out of me.”

Keith blanched, feeling the blood drain from his face. “I’m sorry, shit. I didn’t know.”

Hunk looked back and forth between them fearfully. He made the quick decision to leave the table and talk to Lance, who looked more bored than ever while he manned the counter.

Pidge huffed and glanced down at her cup, curling her hands around the ceramic. “How many years has it been since Areum died, Keith?”

His heart twisted painfully. Keith still vividly remembered the blaze of Seoul’s streetlights, the impact of the car, the tires shrieking as they skidded across the asphalt. Shouting his baby sister’s name, getting dragged away by the paramedics, the incomprehensible murmur of soothing Korean in his ear.

One week later, he was shipped off to America to live with his grandmother. Two years later, she died, and he was out on the streets with nothing to his name. Five months forward, Pidge dragged him into DotU. Three more years, he was twenty, her right hand man, and it still fucking hurt.

His eyes slid shut. “Five years.”

“And it still stings like a bitch, huh? Same here, fucker. Except this one was all my fault, not a stupid, drunk ass chaebol kid’s.” She gritted her teeth, looking so pained it hurt to watch. Keith scooted closer to her and weakly tugged her into his arms.

The golden eyed girl continued, “And I’m supposed to be strong, you know? It’s over! I’m not in the kind of position where I should be crying about spilled milk. But here I am, looking weak as fuck in the middle of a goddamn cafe, in- in front of-”

“Your friend,” Keith finished gently. “Pidge, I know I don’t know everything about you, but I’m your friend. At least that’s what I consider you. And I don’t think you’re weak for feelings, even if you always say I’m emotionally constructed or whatever.”

“Constipated,” Pidge wheezed through the tears welling up in her eyes. She dissolved into quiet laughter, leaving Keith both mollified and confused. “Not constructed.”

After a moment of quietly clinging to each other, Pidge drew away and swiped her sleeve across her eyes. She rebuilt her composure and sat up straight. “Well. I don’t think too many people noticed that. We’re good.”

“Yeah, we’re good,” He replied, ruffling Pidge’s hair. It meant more than just the halted tears, but neither party acknowledged it.

“Time to look at memes to drown out my feelings,” Pidge muttered. Keith pushed her phone toward her with a small smile on his face.

 

* * *

“...and in the end, we all came out of it a couple hundred richer, and no one even knew Pidge had rigged the system.”

Lance positively cackled, hunching over the counter in laughter. “Oh my god, dude, you robbed a casino!”

“The casino robs people! It was only fair! Even if I wouldn’t really call it stealing...” Hunk defended, laughing as well. Lance paused in his reverie to sneak a peek at Keith and Pidge’s table. The air around them was lighter, and they were curled into each other. A minute or two passed before the two pulled away.

“Say, speaking of your friends that keep coercing you into bad decisions,” Lance chirped slyly. “Are they dating?”

Hunk choked on air. “What? Keith and Pidge? No, they would never! They’re definitely not each other’s types, anyway.”

“And yet there they were, cuddling.” The waiter sniffed. He couldn’t quie explain why Hunk’s vehement denial made him happy. It wasn’t like he was into one of them. Right?

“Uh-uh, Lance, they were making up after a fight, but it wasn’t what you’re thinking. I actually thought Pidge was gonna go for Keith’s throat before I booked it.”

“Alright, alright. Wanna go talk to them? Place doesn’t seem too busy right now.”

“Sure!”

When they got there, Pidge was in the middle of reading something off his phone.

“‘[internally] I often wonder what I’ve done in a past life to deserve this. What wrongs have I committed that now force me to suffer this eternal hell?’ HA. Me every damn day.”

“Relatable,” Keith snickered. He swiped Pidge’s phone out of his hand then, ignoring his attempts to get it back. “Oh my god, is that Kyungsoo from EXO? Why the hell are you looking at K-Pop memes?”

“GIVE ME MY PHONE, YOU ALMOND,” Pidge screeched, diving across Keith’s lap to wrench the phone out of his hands. Keith simply raised his arm up, and the shorter boy shrieked in frustration, trying to climb the tall Korean.

"They’re like a really annoying pair of twins,” Hunk confided conspiratorially. “I consider myself the mom friend.”

“Twins? Uh, excuse me, I am older than this midget girl by two years,” Keith sniffed. He was rubbing his cheek where Pidge had punched him to get his phone back, and Pidge growled at him from his seat.

“It doesn’t mean I’m not mature. I’m in the same grade as you!”

“Mature? Mature- YOU LITERALLY CRIED WHEN YOU FOUND OUT YOU MISSED A SALE ON PEANUT BUTTER BROWNIES!”   
  
“I HAVE STRONG FEELINGS ABOUT PEANUTS!” The brown haired boy yelled defensively. “You once illegally shipped soju in from Korea because you couldn’t handle not being able to buy it in the states!”

Lance watched their exchange with wide, fearful eyes. Hunk simply held out his hands placatingly.

“Let’s not get too personal, okay?”

They growled at him in unison and turned back to their argument when Lance suddenly remembered something Keith had said.

“Wait, girl? Why’d you call Pidge a girl?”

Pidge stared at him, stopping in the middle of a sentence about Keith’s emo phase. “Unbelievable. It took him three weeks- Keith, both our bets are void!”

Keith’s expression shifted into annoyed confusion. “What?! I thought I bet three weeks!”

“You bet a month- I bet a month and a half. No one’s getting anything!” He-  _ she _ shook her head in disappointment. “Goddammit, Lance, you lost me a new phone.”

“I lost a month of free food; shut the hell up.” The grey eyed boy retorted. “Buy your damn self a phone.”   
  
“What did you bet on?” Lance said desperately. “What’s going on?”

“Um, which question do you want answered first?” Pidge mumbled. She then tapped her chin thoughtfully and decided to start from the beginning. “Well, I’m a girl. I cut my hair for convenience. And boys’ clothes have actual, functioning pockets, so I wear those more often. As for the bet, Keith and I put money on how long it would take for you to figure it out.”

“They do it to all our new friends,” Hunk interjected. “I thought she was a boy for like two weeks before I realized.”

Lance winced. “Sorry, I’ve been misgendering you. Not cool.”

“It’s alright. This is my secret identity,” She replied with an easy shrug. “You can make it up to me with some more coffee before I have to visit my personal hell, otherwise known as German.”

The blue eyed boy nodded, not quite understanding what she meant by that. Before he could ask for clarification, a woman burst into the store, looking decidedly out of breath and stressed. Lance’s eyes widened; the person who had just arrived was the same woman he’d seen with Coran, the one he’d called gorgeous before being told she was married.

He darted to his place at the register and slipped into customer service mode. “Hi, what can I get for you?”   
  
He was oblivious to the horrified looks exchanged between the three students he’d left behind.

 

* * *

Hunk quickly surveyed the woman. “That’s… that’s Allura Singh, isn’t it?”

“The police chief's daughter,” Pidge hissed in response. “Shit, if she starts coming here regularly, we have to find a new place to go. That’s just risky. If she just happens to see or overhear something, she’ll go running to her dad.”

“Then stop talking!” Keith whispered frantically. He returned to his work, looking worried. Hunk knew he had every reason to be; out of the three of them, Keith was most likely to be caught, due to his penchant for fights.

“She’s in too much of a hurry right now to notice us- see, there she goes.” 

Pidge, as usual, was right: Allura had just taken a small cup of coffee and breezed out of the store. She drove away at a speed Hunk was sure broke the speed limit. Lance blinked at her rapid departure and started to return to them.

“At this rate, everything seems to be going wrong,” Pidge groaned, resting her head on the table. “Balls.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: I wrote the scene where Lance finally realizes Pidge is a girl on August 20th, which was ages and ages before we even got to this chapter. Amazing, huh? 
> 
> A chaebol is a Korean business conglomerate. Basically, what Pidge is saying is that Areum was killed by a drunk rich kid out for kicks.
> 
> The meme I blatantly referenced is only one version of it. The text itself is the meme- D.O.'s photo is just the one I saw attatched to it first.
> 
> I feel like I'm running out of lyrics... damn.
> 
> Pidge's reaction to sadness is literally me. If we're friends, and I ask for memes out of the blue, depression is beating at the walls of my heart with a stick. Please just send the memes.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please provide feedback~


	12. Interlude- KEITH'S Most Beautiful Moment in Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A heartwarming moment with a pair of siblings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *stumbles in and quietly collapses* here... t- take it... my interlude. *dies*
> 
> Yo, so this is Keith's beautiful moment! Set way before everything went to shit, when he and his sister were just young kids in Seoul. He's thirteen, and she's eleven, which you'll see in the fic. 
> 
> As usual, my small child has shitty and absent parents. Not so usually, he has weird past life recollections in his memories. Ain't that great?
> 
> Thanks for 156 kudos! And while I'm really happy with that response, may I please discuss one small thing?
> 
> Most people have probably heard the call of fic authors to leave comments. I know, I know, same old story you've seen in 259438 Tumblr posts, which you scroll through with an eye roll. However, I think that sometimes, readers don't quite realize how important feedback is to us. It might sound whiny or trite, but I need to emphasize the point of several other authors:
> 
> Comments make our damn days. We can be sitting in the middle of class, think about a comment, and smile like a dumbass the rest of the period. Even simple or short ones are very encouraging. So, if not for me, at least for other authors with more amazing stories... I _implore_ you to leave feedback. 
> 
> Of course, you don't really have to- in the end. It's all up to you. But, er, I hope I at least made you pause and consider for a second?
> 
> Small speech over! You can continue on to small Kim siblings making potentially bad decisions, and past!klance.

**_The next planet they landed on was... weird, for lack of a better word._ **

**_It was almost Earth-like in the sense that it had copious amounts of liquid, streaming over its surface, collecting in wide pools that stretched out into the horizon. As this liquid seemed similar to water, Lance was right in his element._ **

**_And he hadn’t shut up about it for the past- Keith checked a timer, promptly realized that he still didn’t have any idea what ticks were in Earth time, and decided to call it hours._ **

**_“Oh my god, do you think we could go swimming?” Lance babbled incessantly as they walked through their host’s palace. “Do they have surfboards? Because that totally looks like the beach near my house, just, y’know, red-”_ **

**_Massaging his temples, Keith ground out, “I don’t know, Lance! Why don’t you ask the residents of the planet instead of the_ ** **other clueless human?”**

**_The Blue Paladin nudged Keith playfully like he didn’t notice the danger in his companion’s voice. The black haired boy rolled his eyes; Lance had never known when to stop. Sometimes it was helpful. Sometimes, it was even endearing._ **

**_Mostly it was annoying, and Keith needed it to stop._ **

**_“It doesn’t look good out there,” he finally observed. The hallway they were walking down led to a large balcony, which he could see the blackened sky from. It looked charred. Tendrils of deep gray smoke curled in the air, and the hairs on his arm stood on end._ **

**_Lance frowned and opened his mouth to answer, but before he could speak, there was a shattering_** **boom!** ** _The sky opened with a flash of vermillion lightning, spilling bright rain over the palace._**

**_The brown haired boy positively squealed. Stripping off his armor, he dashed out onto the balcony before Keith could even tell him to wait._ **

**_“Holy shit, Lance!”_ **

**_Thankfully, his skin did not singe off under the deluge, and he jumped up in down in excitement. “Rain! I haven’t seen rain in forever; this is amazing!”_ **

**_Eyes narrowed, Keith stalked forward, pausing right before stepping on the balcony's polished pink stone, which was now dampened by the torrent. “You’re being so childish and reckless right now, you know that? What if someone sees? What if you could’ve died?” He refused to admit that last possibility was terrifying._ **

**_“But I didn’t!” Lance held out his palm. A wide smile shone on his face. “Join me!”_ **

**_Keith recoiled. “No! I’m not a five year old! Hell, I didn’t even do this when I was five!”_ **

**_“Oh, come ooon! You have to dance in the rain at least once! Be a child!” His friend wheedled._ **

**_“Lance, we are ambassadors on this planet-”_ **

**_“Live a little! Besides... I thought you’d_ ** **like** **_the rain. There’s none in the_ desert _, is there?”_**

**_The_** **fucking desert.** **_Keith glowered just at the mention. “Fine, I’ll come dance in the damn rain.”_**

**_“Bet you can’t do it better than me~” Lance crowed, twirling in place with his face turned up toward the sky, tanned arms outstretched. The brilliant red water streaked over him and painted him crimson._ **

**_Keith exhaled and stepped onto the balcony, letting the rain wash over him. Everything on this planet might’ve been the same color as his Lion, but all he saw was Lance’s blue._ **

_I really do like this idiot, huh?_ ** _He paused upon seeing Lance attempting to catch the water on his tongue._** _I kinda wonder why though._

 

* * *

Keith woke up in confusion. Sitting up in the middle of his wide bed, he scowled. The young boy didn’t know a Lance, and he certainly didn’t _like_ one. Whatever that had been about, it was weird.

Keith swung his legs off the edge of the bed and padded over to the mirror. He didn’t look any different- he was still thirteen, with the same angry, pinched frown. Not any taller or older, unlike in the dream. And his room, a huge area as big as some less fortunate people’s apartments, was the same as ever- plain cream and white.

“Oppa!” A voice screeched. “Come downstairs! Mom left us a note! And three hundred thousand won!”

“Coming, Areum!” Keith called back distractedly. He shook his head, sending his wild black hair awry, and went to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

By the time he got out, his eleven year old sister was standing in the middle of his room, her hands on her hips. He looked at her incredulously.

“What are you doing in my room?” The grey eyed boy snapped. Taking Areum by the shoulders, he steered her out the door and onto the frigid tile landing. She huffed and squirmed out of his grasp. She knew not to come in there, yet she’d still barged in. Rude.

“You were taking too long! I wanted you to come read the note! I didn’t know Mom was leaving again...” Peering at him suspiciously with narrow brown eyes, Areum asked, “Did you?”

Keith thought back. Had Mom said anything about going anywhere? “Oh, I think she said she and her coworkers wanted to take a trip to Jeju Island. Dad’s supposed to meet them there, and then they’ll come back.”

Areum pouted and crossed her arms. Her long black hair swayed angrily as she stomped down the stairs, muttering, “Why do they always leave us alone?”

Keith scoffed. “Because they’re rich, stupid. They have better things to do than take care of us. Is Ji-unnie going to watch us again?”

“Maybe you’ll find out if you read the note! And don’t call me stupid!” Areum retorted. He immediately panicked when he saw the tears welling up in her eyes, and quickly, he dashed down the steps to comfort her. Awkwardly, Keith gathered his younger sister in his arms and held her tightly. She punched him and returned the embrace.

He knew being left alone all the time was hard on Areum. She hadn't quite adapted to it the way he had, being very attached to their mother. Of course, Mom encouraged it, constantly talking about how Areum was her pride, her little beauty. But she was never by that beauty's side, and it stung in that irreparable way of all childhood abandonment.

“Come on, then,” the black haired girl said haughtily, pulling away and making her way to the kitchen. Sure enough, when Keith followed, he saw the note and bills lying on the surface of the shiny granite countertop. He moved closer and swiped the bills off the paper so he could read.

In their mother’s neat hangul script, it said, “I’ll be going on a small trip, darlings. Sorry for not warning you in advance, but it was unplanned. I left money, and Ji-unnie should be coming soon. Love, Kim Jisoo.”

“She didn’t even sign it as ‘Mom,’” Keith complained, wadding up the note and flinging it into the trashcan. “Okay. We can do things just fine by ourselves.”

Meanwhile, Areum had gathered the won in her hands. “Well, Dad signs everything as ‘Kim Mark,’ so she copied him, maybe.”

“It’s still dumb. No one else’s parents do that.” Keith murmured. He pouted, mimicking his sister’s earlier expression.

She looked thoughtfully at the money instead of answering him. “Ji-unnie isn’t here yet… and we have some money. Are you hungry?”

“I didn’t eat anything; of course I am. Why?”

“Now you’re the stupid one,” Areum said importantly. “I mean we should go use this money to get food. Specifically boba and BBQ. Do you want to?”

Keith’s stomach growled. Areum's features morphed into a teasing little smile, all her sadness gone. “Okay, okay, race you to the nearest restaurant!”

Areum squeaked indignantly when he shoved on a pair of Converse and darted out the door.

"Ugh, you suck, oppa!" She shrieked, tearing after him. Keith burst into laughter as he bounded outside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I made my feedback point, so I'm just gonna. Talk content.
> 
> Obviously, Keith has just entirely forgotten the dream. I mean, who does remember childhood dreams? Not fuckin' me. That entire scene was actually written for a Tumblr prompt, "join me." I, being extra af, took it just that overboard.
> 
> Apparently my old won conversion was way off?? One South Korean won is 0.00089 US dollars... nothing like yen. I don't know what I was thinking. I apologize for that error.
> 
> Now, before anyone says anything about "oppa," it's the actual way to say brother in Korean, at least from a girl to a boy. I cringed writing it, though. Should've made Areum a baby brother and used hyung...
> 
> Jeju Island is a very pretty island used as a vacation spot. It's a province of Korea and is home to amazing natural scenery. I'd love to visit it sometime, tbh. 
> 
> I almost feel bad for killing everyone Keith loves. Almost. :)


	13. even if you say...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get those BONDING MOMENTS!
> 
> Also, um. Pidge literally tortures someone, and there's a suicide mention, so tread carefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo, it's me, your favorite mediocre author. I'm back at it again with the trash.
> 
> This chapter is really texting heavy, so that's why it's kinda short. I hope it portrays the relationship development that I wanted it to, though. I might edit it later, but I already know I'm going to have a shitton of work this week, so it might not happen. :/
> 
> Also, I was getting tired of typing "X-CHARACTER is typing..." so I switched to regular messaging for Keith and Lance. Lance is bold, Keith is underlined. 
> 
> Thank you for 166 kudos! You're the best. Additionally, this now has the same number of subscribers as my other fic, which makes me REALLY happy. Thanks~
> 
> Oops, almost forgot. The suffix unnie is what one would call a big sister by in Korean. Traditionally, it's only from girls to girls, but since Areum would call Ji by unnie, that's what Keith remembers.

_ A minute ago: 5001 Pidgeys added you to the chat. _

**5001 Pidgeys >> @gangsta sexy**

**hello bitches**

**Mom is typing…**

**hi pidge!! why’d you make a new group??**

**5001 is typing…**

**cuz we added lance to the other group and we still have to talk gang shit. also shit talk him.**

**Red is typing…**

**i heard that we’re shit talking lance i’m in**

**5001 is typing…**

**amazing, we summoned him just by mentioning lance.**

**anywayyyy this is abt him yeah. i read a tumblr post and tbh i realized we’ve kinda been dicks by talking to him sm at work? we could get him fired ffs. i mean the post was mostly abt flirting w ppl at work which nobody but keith will do to him but i think the principle still stands**

**Red is typing…**

**i don’t flirt with lance wtf! i just met him you’re out of your mind???**

This denial went suspiciously unanswered by Pidge. Hunk shrugged and went back to finishing his message.

**Mom is typing…**

**oh no i didn’t think of that omg! i totally understand that**

**Red is typing…**

**i mean yeah it makes sense. lemme text him that so the loser doesn’t flip his shit bc we’re ignoring him.**

**5001 is typing…**

**how would you know he’d do that tho ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)**

There it was.

**Red is typing…**

**he’s such a dramatic person**

**AND DON’T LENNY FACE ME FUCK OFF PIDGE**

**Mom is typing…**

**wait pidge is right how DID you know that? i didn’t think he was like that in front of us**

There was no response from Keith. Hunk raised an eyebrow, and Pidge started typing again. The baker could picture her cackling.

**5001 is typing…**

**( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)**

 

Three weeks ago…

 

Keith awoke to a Kik notification at three in the morning. Cursing his inability to mute his phone at night, the boy groped around until he fished the Galaxy out of his blankets. He fumbled with the the device until his fingers hit the power button.

He turned it on and looked at the notification bar. At the top of a long string of news articles from Keith’s favorite conspiracy blog was a message from Dab Master.

Without even reading the message, Keith tapped it, typed “it is three in the morning fuck right off” into the open bar, and shut off his phone. He flung it into his pile of pillows and huddled back under the covers.

The next day, he saw that Lance had responded. Keith rolled his eyes and opened the app, cursing even talking to the barista in the first place. The first message he read was the one that had been sent at three in the morning.

**do you think pigeons have feelings bc pidge sure doesn’t**

The later one, the answer to his irritated reply, read,  **r00d tbh i was just fucking around with that. i mostly wanted to know your number, and like, whatsapp, snapchat, idk, myspace.**

**i didn’t even have a myspace when it was popular wtf?? and why do you want to know** , Keith typed. That was completely out of left field.  **btw you’re right pidge has feelings for nothing but peanut butter** .  _ And guns. And knives. And her dead family. And hopefully me and Hunk. _

To Keith’s surprise, Lance instantly answered.  **duhhh so i can annoy you on every platform ever, like i do with all my friends. also good bc i love being right**

The black haired boy groaned in exasperation. Knowing he might regret it later, but still too sleepy to care, he gave Lance what he wanted.

fine it’s 719-214-29XX and the snapchat is no-aegyo.

**HA YOU’RE NOT FREE ANYMORE. you’re gonna get hit with three years of repressed affection, just like hunk n pidge**

oh my god why

**congrats xx now you’re going to be blessed with my beautiful face too. my snapchat’s TheTailor, number’s like yours except it’s an 8 not a 9**

The next two weeks saw him being bombarded with a random flood of Snaps and texts, ranging from Lance singing terribly rendered Linkin Park at Keith to him literally crying over a cookie he’d dropped on the floor. The gangster would like to say he was angry about it, but instead it was endearing and fun. His lectures were always brightened by Lance’s ridiculous stories and constant memes.

The most memorable moment of the entire debacle was the one that almost got Keith thrown out of the Garrison.

**“They say 70% of you is H20… well the other 30% of me WANTS2DIE”**

**“intense daberoni”**

**“respira in… chico”**

lance pls i can’t i’m trying not to laugh in the middle of flight instruction iverson is GLARING

**omg keithy boi i made you laugh a Success™**

never call me keithy boi again i will set fire to everything you love

**you will leave my sons alone?? my small precious blue and my smol-er precious jamie??**

why did you name a cat blue i must know

**HER EYES ARE BLUE LIKE LIMPID TEARS**

Keith snorted so loud, Iverson paused in the middle of his spiel about a maneuver. Pidge placed her hands together in mock prayer, the boy next to Keith gulped and quickly edged away from him, and Iverson stalked toward him with narrowed eyes.

“Something funny, Kim?” He growled. Panicking, Keith tried to think of a proper response that wouldn’t get him killed in front of his whole class. Then he remembered that Iverson couldn’t kick him out, because then he’d lose a prodigy.

“Nothing at all, sir- I just think that you should continue with the lesson quickly. It is almost time to go, after all,” Keith replied. His phone quietly buzzed in his hand, and he cursed.  _ Don’t notice, don’t notice, there is nothing to see here…! _

Thankfully, Iverson also realized the period had ended, and let the student go with a warning grimace. Keith calmly flipped him off behind his back and bolted out of the room, Pidge by his side.

Collapsing against the wall, he typed, I HOPE YOU KNOW YOUR SHITTY MY IMMORTAL MEMES ALMOST GOT ME KICKED OUT OF COLLEGE

**damn calm down keith dark’ness dementia raven way**

you’re ridiculous i hope your sin catches up with you someday

He didn’t notice Pidge smiling at him, her eyes drifting from his phone screen to his exasperated grin.

 

-

 

In fact, everything was going well with Lance in general. Despite not talking to him as much in person, Keith had learned most of Lance’s little quirks and favorite things. His baby brother’s name was Jamie, and he liked lions. Both of them loved the ocean. Lance wanted to walk on the moon at least once, even if he was sure it wouldn’t happen (although if he went to the Garrison, surely he’d gain that opportunity. Right?). 

Yeah, things were going pretty damn well. Until one day they got a bit too real. 

The two were just exchanging memes as per usual when Keith sent one about how some kid’s sister sold him out for a marshmallow. Really, he didn’t mean anything by it. 

**i had a sister**

Keith frowned.  had?

A minute passed, and then Lance sent a selfie. He was a little younger in the photo, and there was a girl next to him, one with soft waves of brown hair and a smile as brilliant as Lance’s. Their family resemblance was unmistakable.

**that’s rosa. she committed suicide three years ago,** Lance wrote.  **hurt like fucking hell for me, i was the only one who cared. or was old enough to, cuz jamie was like 3, he doesn’t remember her**

oh my god i’m so sorry

but i know how you feel

**know? how the FUCK could you know?** The other answered angrily. Keith could almost picture the way Lance’s face pinched in rage, could almost hear the pitch of his sharp voice as he spat the words out through clenched teeth.

Keith winced, realizing his quick text had pissed Lance off by accident. He went digging through his drawers to find one of the old Polaroid photos he had of Areum and himself and ended up finding one buried under a deep, bloody red jacket. In it, he and Areum were dancing at one of the stuffy galas their parents had dragged them to. Both of them had cake on their faces and were laughing at each other. He remembered how mad his parents had been when they’d seen their kids’ antics. Neither Kim sibling had cared, especially not when their babysitter, Ji-unnie, sent them both copies of the cute picture.

He took a quick picture of the printed photo with his phone and sent it to Lance.

that’s my sister areum. she was

Keith hit send too early and inhaled through his teeth. He finished the story with deliberate, angry taps of the letters.

hit by a car when she was only thirteen.

**shit shit shit i didn’t know, i sounded like a dick back then. sorry**

you had no clue, i understand

but it looks like we have that in common

**tragic backstory?** Lance joked flatly.

He went wordless for a second before simply typing,  yeah .

**well. aren’t we a perfect couple**

Keith who had been distracted by the photo and his sister’s smiling face, missed Lance’s last message. When he saw it the next morning, a flush crept across his cheeks.

_ HE DIDN’T MEAN IT LIKE THAT. _

_...he definitely didn’t. _

_ But I’m glad I know him better now. _

 

* * *

 

Pidge stabbed straight through the drone’s hand and pinned it to the table, sighing in irritation when he screamed. He dissolved into incomprehensible sobs and wails as the pain set in. The Green Lion grunt behind them laughed, presumably far too amused by the entire situation.

“For fuck’s sake,” she muttered. “You could’ve avoided that if you would just tell me who killed my runners. You know who it is. You can end this.”

“Okay! Okay! Just don’t kill me!” The boy blubbered. Pidge rolled her eyes, tugging the knife out from between his metacarpals. She swung down again and narrowly missed taking off his thumb. The knife dove into the wooden table, landing amidst several other divots and gouge marks.

“It was Haxus!” The Galra screeched, eyes wide with fear. The gang leader wrinkled her nose when she smelled piss. What a weakling. Then his words registered in her mind, and she peered at his snivelling face in curiosity.

“Alfred Haxus? The mayor’s friend?” She asked for clarification. He nodded jerkily.

“He likes really twisted shit- he personally asked Boss if he could leave that message! I swear!”   
  
“I don’t think he’s lying,” Pidge’s Lion drawled. “Want me to clip him?”

Pidge considered, looking down on the Galra from her perch on the table.

“No. You see, unlike the Galra, we don’t kill kids,” The gangster paused to grab the boy and hauled him up to her eye level. “You are going to be my spy. If you don’t, I will personally ruin everything you love. Your house. Your car. Your already dwindling education. I will throw you into the hands of the sharks in Altea’s highest security prison. Your life will fall apart around you in less than a week, and you’re gonna wish you had died. Are you going to work for me?”

He nodded frantically again. Pidge smirked. 

“Good. You’re listening. Now,” she stood and patted his shoulder, stowing her knife back in her pocket. “Go home. You’ll come again when I need you.”

She whistled, and another Lion marched in. They covered the former Galra’s head with a sack and dragged him away. Pidge watched him go in mild satisfaction.

“Boss, there’s something you need to know,” the Lion left with Pidge piped up. She sidled into the shorter girl’s viewpoint and read something off a tablet.

“‘Mayor G. Thace announced an end of September gala for charity today. Sure to be in attendance are close friends Police Chief Alfor Singh and millionaire Alfred Haxus, both high profile members of the community,’” she quoted. “‘The gala will be held September 30th at Castle of Universe hall.’”

Against her will, Pidge’s mouth curved into a vicious smirk. “Well, well. What better time and place to make a  _ statement _ than in front of dozens of people?”

She called Red as she left the bunker, already knowing what he was going to say.

_ “You in?” _

_ “All in.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOT THE SONG REFERENCES.
> 
> Sidenote- the meme Keith sent to Lance that set off their sad moment doesn't exist, at least not that I know of. There is no resemblance meant to memes living or dead, okay?
> 
> I live for feedback! Drop a comment if you're so inclined. Next update is when the shit goes down OvO
> 
> See ya! Blizzard out.
> 
> EDIT, 10/25/16: I added scenes because I didn't like how choppy the chapter was. The edit includes more klance, memes, and Iverson being a dick (as per usual). Enjoy!


	14. a house of cards, and us inside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, boy, this one's a doozy. CWs for implied attempted rape, drug mentions, and murder.
> 
> There is also a description of a panic attack. To avoid majority of the potentially triggering contact, please skip Pidge's entire flashback.
> 
> Let's get down to business!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sneezes*
> 
> Alright, well, hi! This is one wild chapter, and I'm gonna edit the fuck outta it tomorrow. As it is, right now I can't see straight! Exhaustion is not fun kids; do not be like your author.
> 
> This is over 4000 words, making it the longest chapter I've ever written for anything. I am proud af. It contains, like, one of the scenes I've been wanting to write since I've started this mess? I'm hella excited.
> 
> Thank you for 172 kudos! I love you! 
> 
> Buuuuut I also have bad news. 
> 
> This fic is going on hiatus for November. "What the fuck? Why?!" You scream, shocked.
> 
> Well, November is NaNoWriMo, and I'm aiming to finish my old fic HFU in that time. I'll come right back to IADA right after it, though! You're not being abandoned! 
> 
> That being said, I'll see you in December, my lovelies. I'll miss this fic for the time I'm away!
> 
> EDIT, 11/1/16: I added in like, a 1000 words. Again. This time, I just gave the entire scene with Keith and Jamie. Enjoy some sass. And feelings. And foreshadowing.

Pidge was at a very troublesome stage in her life right now.

In fact, the decision she was considering making could be disastrous. Awful. Terrible. A whole host of other adjectives equating to horrific.

She inhaled deeply and pressed the call button, and when it was done, hissed and threw her phone under the couch cushion. Keith and Hunk looked at her oddly. Pidge scowled at them; they had no idea what she’d just done.

A muted click from her phone indicated that the person had picked up. Making her way to the damned plastic rectangle with excruciating slowness, Pidge snagged it between two fingers and brought it to her ear.

“Ooh,” the voice on the other end cooed. “A little birdie is calling me! What does she want?”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Pidge retorted immediately. “Spare me your bullshit. I need…”

The girl trailed off lamely. She didn’t even know how to voice her request. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, the person on the end of the line had no trouble goading her into spitting it out.

“What could you possibly need from me?” She purred. “I’m really curious. After all, why would a genius like you need the help of a lowly plebeian like me?”

“GO TO HELL, NYMA!” She snapped. “God, it’s not like I _want_ to talk to you! I just- I need a dress. A classy one. But I don’t know where to start.”

For a moment, silence surrounded the brown haired girl. Her boys blinked owlishly at her, Hunk mouthing, “A dress?” in confusion. Keith quietly tugged him down to explain the assassination plan.

“I’m sorry, did you just say you needed a dress? For what? I thought you were pretending to be a guy?”

Pidge huffed. “That’s the most intelligent thing I’ve ever heard you say. And yeah, I know I normally wear suits, but I’m attending that gala the end of this month, and I require something that dissociates me from my usual persona.”

“Dude, I’m like, really hungover, so can we try that again with small words?” Nyma asked plaintively.  “All I understood was that you’re going to that fancy ass party thing of the mayor’s.”

Pidge set down her phone and gently massaged her temples. Wordlessly, Keith took her phone and repeated her message, this time in baby words.

“Boss needs something different than she normally wears,” the black haired boy recited in monotone. Hunk stifled his snickers.

She motioned for her phone and sighed into the receiver. “Better?”

“Yeah, totally. Lemme pop a couple pills, and then I’ll help you out of the goodness of my heart.”

Pidge rolled her eyes at the medic’s flippant tone. “What heart?”

“Okay, you know what? Now you’re just being rude. I hope every dress you see today is ugly, just like-”

The gang leader hung up and shoved the iPhone between the larger couch cushions. Quickly, she sat on the hidden device.

“Pidge, pretending the phone isn’t there won’t help-” Hunk started, but she cut him off by pressing a finger to her lips.

“Shh. Shh. Let me bask in the sweet silence. There is no high pitched voice screeching in my ear. I am at peace. Most of my bad decisions are not ruining my life.”

Keith leaned in and whispered, “You haven’t completed your Python coding assignment.”

Pidge buried her face into a pillow and screamed.

 

* * *

 

Jamie sneezed.

And then he sneezed again, and again, and again, until his nose was red. Sniffling miserably, he huddled under a thick blue blanket.

“Aw, hermanito,” Lance fussed. He passed Jamie a large box of Kleenex, a worried look on his face. “What happened? Did someone at school get you sick?”

“Laney was sneezing a lot,” Jamie mumbled. “Maybe it was her.”

Lance stood, a slight frown marring his features. “Alright, well, the next time someone is sick, try to stay a little farther away from them, okay? I’m going to go get some medicine from the store, and then I have to go to work.”

“Please don’t buy grape,” the boy begged. “I hate it; it tastes so bad.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll try not to,” his brother reassured. “I’m gonna call someone else to take care of you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter!” Jamie protested, sitting up. “I’m old enough!”

Lance stared at him. “Kid, you’re six years old. There’s no way I’m letting you stay here by yourself.”

Jamie pouted, his lower lip wobbling like he was about to cry. Lance remained nonplussed.

“You can stay home alone when you’re in middle school,” he said. “Just lemme go call Hunk. You’ve met him, right? You wouldn’t mind him taking care of you?”

“He made good food…” Jamie considered. “Okay.”

Lance ruffled his hair and left the room, calling Hunk on the way.

Meanwhile, Jamie picked up his stuffed lion and tried imagining a new adventure. What would be cool? Running around on Earth was too boring- lions already did that. But what if they went to space? And fought monsters? The child decided he liked that idea and started creating a scenario.

“Pshoom, boom!” He muttered, making the lion fly with his hand. “The magic lion saves the day again!”

Before Jamie could continue, he was interrupted by Lance walking back in. His older brother had a resigned expression on his face, so the child asked what was wrong.

“Hunk says he’s really busy working on something for Pidge, who is apparently also very involved in shopping for something important. I don’t know who else to call, but I don’t want to get some random babysitter off a site, or ask a neighbor.”

Jamie tilted his head. “What about Keith? Your boyfriend.”

“HE IS NOT MY BOYFRIEND!” Lance screeched, his voice rising several octaves. “No way, no way, no way am I dating that mullet head!”

“But you text him all the time? And you’re always smiling when you do? And once you said his hair looked really sof-”

Lance tackled Jamie to the bed and covered his mouth. “Do not!”

Jamie promptly licked his hand, and Lance careened away in disgust. The younger boy opened his mouth to cackle triumphantly, absolutely delighted in making fun of his older brother, but he descended into a coughing fit before he could.

Lance’s face crumpled into worry. “I’ll call Keith. Hopefully he’ll be available.”

He smoothed his hand over the bedspread and stood. “Be safe for five minutes, hm?”

Jamie nodded and returned to toying with the stuffed animal, listening to the muted sounds of Lance trying to convince Keith to come over. Finally, the elder Latino bounded back into the room, a triumphant grin on his face.

“Ha, I got him to agree! And I conned him into buying Motrin! I mean, now I owe him, but that doesn’t matter.” Lance cackled. He seemed a little too pleased with the whole thing, but calmed down enough to sternly say, “Don’t be a little shit to him while he’s here, and he won’t be a little bitch to you. Capiche?”

Jamie nodded. “Can I just sleep?”

“Yeah, but wake up if Keith needs to feed you or give you medicine. I have to work for a long while today; I’m covering Shay’s shift.”

“Why are you always working, hermano?” Jamie asked, quietly, stopping Lance when he turned to leave. “We used to play together, and you would be there almost all the time. But now it’s like you don’t have time for me.” Against his will, the young boy felt tears welling up in his eyes. He faked sneezing to hide them, but Lance had already seen.

Immediately, Jamie felt himself wrapped in a hug. He shakily grabbed onto his brother’s shirt, sniffling pitifully. This kind of affection was what he’d been missing. Once given so frequently, it had become rarer and rarer until he felt that his brother wasn’t even there anymore.

“Oh, carino, I’m so sorry. But you have to understand something, okay?” Pulling back from Jamie, he placed his hands on the child’s small shoulders and looked him in the eye. “You listening?”

“Uhuh,” he mumbled.

“The reason I work so hard is so you can have the life you deserve. I had to give up on my dreams, you know? But I never, ever want that to happen to you. So right now, I gotta make money, and take care of you, and sometimes doing both is hard. But never think I don’t care about you, alright? Because I care more than you’ll ever know.” Lance whispered fiercely. “I love you, hermanito. You always come first.”

Jamie’s tearful reply was stopped in its tracks by the muted ringing of the doorbell.

“Alright, that’s our cue. Don’t cry, kiddo- it’ll be alright in the end,” Lance reassured. “Now let’s go say hi to Keith.”

 

* * *

 

Keith anxiously stood outside the door to Lance’s apartment, holding a package of children’s Motrin in his clammy hand. He was not good with kids. When Areum was a six year old, all he did was make her cry…

Hopefully, twelve years more had given him some measure of maturity.

His thoughts were interrupted by Lance tugging the door open. The other boy looked decidedly ruffled, his hair messy and shirt damp. Keith wrinkled his nose; was that snot? It sure as hell wasn’t something he wanted anywhere near his motorcycle jacket.

“Dude, thank you so much, I don’t even know how to repay you,” Lance rambled, tugging him into the apartment. “I was losing my mind. Goddamn, I wish I didn’t have to work so often.”

Keith bit his lip, seconds away from asking him why he didn’t have any familial support. He was sure that the answer was only something that would upset Lance, and seeing as he already seemed stressed, Keith kept his mouth shut.

Instead, he looked around the apartment. The distinction between it and his own home was blatantly clear- Lance wasn’t the wealthiest person around. But Keith had been out on the streets, and he knew he had no room to judge.

“Hey, Jamie,” Lance called. Keith snapped to attention and followed Lance into the room he’d entered.

Perched on the bed was a tiny boy with red rimmed eyes and a slight frown, the same kid that had laughed at him when he and Lance had fought in the supermarket. He looked so much like Lance that Keith was taken aback: same blue eyes, same short, fluffy brown hair, same tanned skin. It seemed like he was staring a younger Lance in the eye.

...although Keith wasn’t quite sure baby Lance would look at him with so much judgment and mistrust.

“Well, balls; I have to go,” Lance grumbled. “Don’t burn the house down, don’t annoy each other, send Pidge some bird memes. Bye hermanito, nino bonito!”

Thus, Keith was left alone with a sniffling, small child, one that had apparently robbed a Safeway once. Unsure of what else to do, he pulled out the Motrin and showed it to Jamie.

“So, do you want to take this now?” The black haired boy asked tentatively.

“Is it grape?” Jamie sniffed. “Because I hate grape.”

Keith peered at the label. “No, uh, it’s mixed berry. Is that okay?”

Jamie sighed and huddled under his blankets, cradling a stuffed lion to his chest. He sneezed five times in a row while trying to ignore his caretaker, and Keith decided to just give him the medicine. Carefully pouring it out, he took the little medicine cup and handed it to Jamie. Although he looked rather annoyed, he drank the entire thing and put the cup back on the rickety bedside table.

After fifteen minutes of sitting in silence, Keith resolved to make an attempt at an ice breaker. He almost wished Jamie had a phone so the pair could just text; the lack of face to face interaction made talking via text much easier for the socially awkward boy. But since he didn’t, talking would have to do.

“So, um, you have glow in the dark stars on your ceiling. Do you like space?”

Jamie perked up a bit. “Uhuh. Hermano taught me about the stars and comets and planets. He made constellations for me even though we weren’t supposed to, see?” He pointed at the line of stickers right above them. “That’s the Big Dipper, and next to it is Leo, and over there is Canes- um, vera-”

“Canes Venatici,” Keith supplied, smiling gently. “That’s the Lynx under the Big Dipper, and Camelopardalis to its right. Lance knows his stuff. Then again, he has to if he wants to stay in the Garrison; astronomy’s a requirement there.”

Jamie tilted his head. “But hermano doesn’t go to the Garrison.”

“What? He told Hunk that he-” Keith paused suddenly, the realization hitting him. Of course Lance didn’t go to the Garrison. It was impossible with his schedule. And with the classes they had to take per the university’s rules, Keith would’ve had to have seen him at some point. It meant for some reason, Lance had lied to them.

“He wanted to,” the young boy murmured. “He said before he came that he had to give up his dream, cuz he had to take care of me.”

_Jesus Christ, how fucked up is Lance’s life? His sister’s dead, he does drug deals for antidepressants, he’s always working, and he lives in this place, which looks like it’s gonna fall apart. What the fuck happened to his parents?_

“How come your parents don’t take care of you?” Keith ventured. Jamie had to know something about that- he called Lance brother, not dad. There was a distinction even in his young mind between his guardian and his birth parents.

He shrugged, tossing his toy up in the air. “All hermano said was that they were bad people. Really bad people that we couldn’t stay with. I don’t know them, but I think hermano’s cooler anyway. Even if he wants to date someone like you.”

_Abusive parents? Well, doesn’t his backstory just get continually worse… wait, what’d the brat say about dating and me?_

“What the hell do you mean he wants to date me? And what’s wrong with me anyway?” Keith exclaimed. He hoped the child didn’t notice his reddening face.

“I think he likes you. He’s always talking to you. And I don’t think you’re that bad anymore, cuz you know about stars and space too,” Jamie replied importantly. “Who cares about dating anyway? It’s gross. Play space lions with me.”

Mechanically, Keith threw himself into playing with “magic” cats. It was a mindless and fun game, enough to pass the time until Jamie fell asleep, seemingly too tired to even wait for dinner.

He tried to ignore the cacophony of thoughts rebounding in his skull.

 

* * *

 

 

_**Three weeks later…** _

 

“Pidge! Pidge!” Hunk called, rushing into her house. She looked up from a blueprint of the venue the gala would be held at, questions written over her face.

“What’s up, Hunk?” She asked. “Do you have info?”

“Better!” He chirped, taking the bag he’d been carrying off his shoulder. “Remember that recon droid info we stole from the Garrison? I finished building and programming the prototype!”

“Oh my god, Hunk, I love you,” Pidge squealed. She dove for the bag and hurriedly unpacked it, revealing the small, pyramid shaped robot within. It rested on a sleek tablet, and both looked completely pristine. “They’re beautiful, holy shit!”

Hunk laughed, caught up in her enthusiasm. “You might need to tweak the programming, but for the most part, it’s fully functional. You can try using it when you’re casing tonight! Here’s a paper with its list of functions, settings, et cetera.” He pulled the slip out of his pocket and handed to her.

Pidge gave the paper a cursory glance and booted the droid up. It rose into the air and moved to face her. Her hands reached for it carefully, prodding at its base until it bobbed away. Hunk grinned; all his late nights working on the contraption had definitely paid off. This was the brightest Pidge had looked in months.

“I feel like I have a son,” she said in awe. “Hunk, we have a child now. I’m naming him Rover.”

Laughing, Hunk moved closer and picked up the tablet. The feed appeared in high definition, much to his delight. “Isn’t that a dog’s name?”

“Who cares? He’s ours.”

“Wanna take him for a test drive?” The engineer grinned, waggling his eyebrows. “We can freak out Keith.”

“Let’s do it! And I’ll use it again in just a couple hours.”

They cackled and high fived.

Five minutes later, Keith woke up screeching in fear at the droid hovering ominously above him.

 

* * *

 

Pidge stared up at the large building, the street around her entirely empty. The backdrop of twinkling stars and glowing streetlamps illuminated her tiny figure as her eyes flickered over Castle of Universe hall. In around 20 hours, she would be walking over the grand, tiled floors in the overly expensive dress she’d recently bought, interacting with the pompous lords and ladies of Altea, and murdering Alfred Haxus with her own hands.

“Boss,” a Lion hissed into her earpiece. “It’s clear, and Gold says he disabled the cameras. You and the triangle can come in.”

“Triangle?” Pidge sniffed, waltzing through the doors. It sure was great for her that the last worker had just happened to leave them unlocked. “Learn your shapes, kid; Rover is a pyramid. And I think he can do a better job of this than you.”

The gang leader stepped into the grand edifice, pulling her new droid out of her pocket. “Alright, Rover,” she whispered. “Time to do your thing.”

With a soft beeping sound, her new droid blinked to life and took to hovering in the air. Pidge tugged the tablet connected to it out of her jacket and hit the power button. Suddenly, she could see what Rover saw on the screen, completely clear and focused.

“Oh, Hunk, I didn’t tell you earlier, but you are getting a very, very big bonus at Christmas,” the brown haired girl purred. “I am utterly in love. Go on, Rover, case this place.”

The droid clicked and floated off. Pidge grinned in childish glee, bounding away to explore the Castle of Universe by herself. Dark as it was, she could spot the artwork adorning the walls, the shine of crystal chandeliers, the shadows of chairs and tables that hadn’t been put into place for the gala.

_Hm, this area is fairly open. There aren’t that many places to hide or take refuge. I guess I’ll have to hit him in one shot and use the chaos of the crowd to hide._

She peered at Rover’s feed, watching the droid drift from room to room of the hall. It seemed her preliminary analysis of the large room was correct; the entire hall was straightforward, and there weren’t enough nooks and crannies to take cover in. All in all, though, it was a beautiful place.

_Too bad tomorrow there’ll be blood all over this lovely floor._

 

-

 

Keith huffed softly as he worked the comb through Pidge’s short, flyaway hair. The girl herself didn’t notice his irritated mumbling; she was nodding off, still suffering the effects of her late night casing.

“Your hair's a mess. Do you ever use product?” He admonished, startling his boss awake. “Jesus, I think you’re gonna break the bristles.”

“I don’t have time for that fancy ass shit,” she grumbled. “Of course not.”

“Pidge, I’m talking, like, conditioner too. Do you even condition?”

“Is conditioner that thing that looks like shampoo, but isn’t?” The girl asked. “I think I accidentally bought that once. I didn’t know what to do with it, so I threw it out.”

“You’re a disaster,” he sighed. “Whatever. I think it’s ready now.”

“What are you gonna do with it?”

Keith ran his fingers through her fluffed, wavy locks. “I’m not sure. Areum’s hair stopped about,” he tapped a point below the girl’s sharp shoulder blades. “Here. Yours is a lot shorter.”

“Oh, it didn’t used to be,” Pidge mused sadly. She caught the eyes of Keith’s reflection. His expression, although carefully guarded, was curious.

“Alright, don’t give me that look. I’ll tell ya. I cut it around the same time I joined DotU and started running. Actually, the day I cut it was the first day I killed someone.”

**_Running harder than she ever had, Katie scrambled over heaps of trash and gasped in horror. She’d run straight into a dead end. The chain link fence blocking off the alley was too high for her to climb; there was no way out._ **

**_“Well, girlie, you might’ve given me a run for my money, but you can’t go anywhere now. Give me the rest of my cocaine!” A voice snarled from the mouth of the alley._ **

**_Taking care to keep her voice steady, she whirled around and spat, “I gave you what you paid for! Thirty milligrams! You can’t ask for more!”_ **

**_The man stalked toward her, his eyes crazed. “Then you’re gonna have to give me something else.”_ **

**_Katie panicked, though she tried to look calm. “I’m not handing over anyone else’s drugs either, asshole!”_ **

**_“Oh, that’s not what I meant,”  he growled. Taking menacing steps forward, he drew a knife out of his pocket._ **

**_The girl bolted, trying desperately to rush past him. But before she could vault over the piles of garbage bags, he snagged her long brown ponytail in his grimy hand and dragged her backward._ **

**_“No! No! Leave me the fuck alone!” Katie screamed. Frantically, she reached into her jacket’s huge inner pocket and groped around for the gun she’d been given. She’d sworn she wouldn’t use it, but now she had no choice._ **

**_Just as he forcibly spun her around, she freed the gun from the confines of fabric, flicked off the safety, and fired indiscriminately._ **

**_The kickback vibrated up Katie’s thin arm and knocked her on her ass. She wheezed in pain, shaking violently, but scrambled to her feet and fired twice more. The icy fear in her veins refused to ebb away, and the girl stood paralyzed in horror._ **

_**The man was dead, his blood pooling dark underneath him. She dropped the gun into the puddle, petrified.** _

_**The fear started to culminate into a panic attack, blacking out her vision with a swarm of spots and halting her breathing. She fell to her knees, scraping them, but no pain registered in her brain. All Katie could think was “I just killed someone, I killed him!”** _

_**The sound of sirens wailing jolted the golden eyed girl out of the clutches of panic. With heavy breaths, she gripped her gun hard and fled.** _

_**The police would describe the murder as sloppy and inexplicable. Katie would shamefully avoid the news.** _

_**Days later, Katie looked up at the dirty mirror of the bathroom she shared with other runners. Her hands shakily ran over her tangled hair, which spilled over her back in waves of light brown. She picked a pair of scissors off the cluttered counter and grabbed a lock of hair.** _

_New day. Time for a haircut._

**_As she stared at her reflection, clipped locks of hair falling around her face to rest in clumps on the floor, she realized the old her was really dead. There was a cold hearted look in her eyes and blood still caked under the nails of her right hand. And with choppy tufts of chestnut crowning her head, she looked more like Matt._ **

_Katie is gone. Who am I now?_

_**She scrambled for her laptop and trawled through sites of baby names. Nothing stuck out to her, nothing among heaps of archetypes and rehashed meanings and MBTI categories.** _

_**Ready to give up, she set the beaten Dell down. But just as she did, a pigeon landed on the windowsill and cooed through the glass. The girl stared at it; it was like an omen.** _

_**A new her began to form.** _

_I’ve always… admired pigeons. No matter how much they’re hated, or how much danger they could be in, they fearlessly walk around in large flocks, unnoticed amidst crowds of people._

_I’ll be Pidge. Pidge Gunderson. Unnoticed, the one no one ever sees coming._

_**Pidge hauled herself off the floor and went digging through her meager belongings for the spare pair of Matt’s glasses she’d stolen from her old house. She shakily put them on, making a mental note to swap the prescription lenses out for plain glass.** _

_Goodbye, my damned past._

_**The next day, she was more frigid and ruthless than before. The leader of DotU looked at her with far too much pride in his callous eyes.** _

“Jesus,” Keith breathed. “And you never grew it out again?”  
  
“It helped with the whole ‘pretending to be a boy’ thing. And it was convenient. I still miss my old hair though. Might grow it out if I retire,” she sighed, looking up at him. “Lotta shit went down even when I wasn’t K, you know?”

They sat in silence for a minute before Keith quipped, “I can’t believe you named yourself after a goddamn bird.”

Pidge threw a pack of bobby pins at him. “You know what? Fuck yourself. Keith is a name for fuckboys.”

Keith stuck his tongue out at her childishly, returning to working on her makeover. “I was given this name by my dad, asshole. Anyway, I’ll just do a short French braid, and then I’ll get started covering up your tattoo. I have no clue why you got a backless dress when you have so much ink.”

“Aesthetic,” Pidge replied jokingly.

The dark haired boy rolled his eyes. “You better pay me back for all this concealer.”

 

* * *

 

The party was a bit too reminiscent of childhood memories for Keith to stomach.

Dodging the grasp of a clingy, overly flirty girl, the boy plucked a glass of champagne off a waiter’s tray and snuck out into the gardens. He kept a close eye on Pidge as he did, although she didn’t seem to be having any trouble at all. A flock of wealthy socialites crowded around her, all utterly absorbed in whatever bullshit she was saying.

Keith took a breath of cool night air, gazing over the landscaped grounds. This was just like the galas his parents had dragged him and Areum to when they were children. The fake chatter and simpering of men and women, the thinly veiled insults and jabs, the backdoor business deals, the out of place, uncomfortable children- all of it was the same. The sole difference was that English reached his ears instead of the melodic flow of Korean.

He knocked back his champagne and wondered if he should text Lance. The blue eyed boy was always entertaining, and always found time to reply to his messages.

Deciding that he deserved a break from old demons and new devils, Keith pulled out his phone and took a blurry selfie for Snapchat. He captioned it lazily.

tfw your crazy friend dragged you to a party but it’s too high class for you 

Lance replied instantly with, **holy shit dude you look really good in a suit also that fucking sucks would you like memes??**

Keith froze upon reading the other’s complement. Abruptly, his mind flashed back to Jamie’s words from a few weeks ago.

_He wants to date you._

Angrily shaking his head to disperse those thoughts, he took a picture of the dark sky and responded,

jfc anything to end my suffering and distract me 

**memes are coming just wait keithy boi**

Before Keith could receive the promised memes, he noticed Pidge subtly motioning for him through the glass of the nearest window. It looked like Haxus was about to give a speech.

The boy pocketed his phone and hurried in, taking his place by her side. Surreptitiously, other Lions crowded around them, ready to block everyone’s view of Pidge shooting him.

“Welcome, welcome!” Haxus said with false joviality. His flinty eyes swept over the crowd in assessment. Keith tensed under his gaze; how could anyone not notice how creepy that look was?

Pidge clicked her tongue and slipped a hand under the slit in her dress. She kept her palm on her thigh, ready to pull out her gun. It really was such a shame that security here didn’t dare to search their precious guests for weapons.

Meanwhile, Haxus was giving a drawn out spiel about his friendship with the Mayor and the contributions he’d so graciously bestowed on the Altean community. While most people seemed attentive, Keith noticed Allura Singh and a tall Asian man beside her looking visibly exasperated. Allura actually sneered at one point, turning to mutter into her companion’s ear. The Korean raised an eyebrow. Things were not well among high society, it seemed.

Tension mounted among the Lions as the clock drew closer to 10:00. Keith began to rise on the balls off his feet, anticipation and an edge of bloodlust creeping into his thoughts. Just as Haxus’s speech drew to a close, Pidge smoothly drew her gun and fired.

A neat, red hole appeared in the center of the bastard’s forehead. The bang of the gun faded into silence, and the shell fell to the floor with a soft clink at the same time Haxus collapsed.

Absolute chaos erupted. Screams rebounded in the hall, and people began to flee in all directions. The pandemonium was so loud Keith winced, but he made to scatter like the rest of the Lions.

His eyes caught Pidge’s face. She wasn’t looking at him; rather, her eyes were locked upon the same Asian man that he’d seen standing with Allura. Her face lit up with recognition, then twisted into utter rage.

“That fucker,” Pidge spat. Pure hatred colored the two words, and before Keith could intervene, she raised her gun again and fired at the other guest.

She missed as he ducked into the hallway, bullets splashing across the marble walls and puncturing the painting nearest to the target. Keith gasped and dove at her, grabbing her arm and dragging her toward the garden entrance. People scurried around them, no one noticing the gun still in Pidge’s white knuckled hand, but Keith couldn’t bother caring. He just knew that he had to get them out of here.

“What the fuck?!” He panted when the pair was hidden in the maze of hedges. Sirens blared in the distance, and the grey eyed boy swore he could still hear screaming.

“No one fucking saw,” she muttered, ripping the braid out of her hair. It swung back around her face in soft curves, and the gun fell into the grass at their feet as she shakily pushed her bangs back. Her mouth was still twisted and wobbly from her outburst of emotion, and Keith’s shock crystallized into rage.

“It doesn’t matter that the cameras didn’t see! There were still a shitton of witnesses there! You compromised things!” He grabbed her shoulders and shook her, trying to make sense of her actions. “What the fuck were you thinking?”  
  
“I’m thinking that fucker deserves to be dead too!” Pidge shouted back. To Keith’s shock, furious tears glittered in her eyes. “You don’t know what he did to me! To my brot- fuck, you know what? This way the police might be uncertain of the real target. I’m 86% certain I hit him too, on his shoulder. It was just one bullet, but maybe it’ll be enough evidence to confuse them.”

“Pidge, what the hell! Explain this shit to me- you can’t just do that!”

She spun around and started walking away, taking off her high heels and tossing them aside. “I’ll do what the fuck I want! Leave me alone, Keith; you don’t know me!”

Keith stood helplessly in a tangle of leaves, a Smith and Wesson and $300 shoes at his feet.

Blissfully unaware, Lance continued to send messages. Keith’s phone innocently buzzed in his pocket, all while searchlights and police began to prowl the grounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Point of clarification: Pidge's backstory is a full memory only to herself and the reader. She gave Keith an abbreviated version that left out her real name and some other details.
> 
> For a visual of the hall that gala is in, look at the MV for Bangtan's Blood, Sweat, and Tears. That's what I was picturing when I wrote it, but a bit more open.
> 
> The "Keith is a fuckboy name" comment is brought to you by my sister and beta starryeyyyed, otherwise known as a girl who's very rude to my son.
> 
> Please tell me what you think, hit me with theories (or tomatoes), scream incoherently in rage at my leaving- whatever you want! I'll be back sooner than you think, I promise!
> 
> Blizzard out- see you in December! <3


	15. everything that you've done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Explanations and OT3 bonding~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *stares at the wall with a mixture of One Ok Rock's Liar, Park Jimin's Lie, and Marina and The Diamonds's Lies stuck in my head*
> 
> Because I am a filthy liar.
> 
> Well, hello, readers! It's been a while! I've missed you- and this story. Writing it again was a relief.
> 
> Unfortunately, my early return isn't for the reason you might be expecting. As any of you who read HFU must know, or even anyone who has been on my profile page must've noticed, NaNo did NOT go well for me. I barely wrote anything. That chapter stub is the smallest amount I've ever shit out for NaNo, a pathetic ~2000 words. My inspiration for that fic shrivelled and died like a bug, and meanwhile, I wrote the near 3000 words of this chapter in less than an hour. Clearly, there're some differences.
> 
> So I'm putting this fic on semi-hiatus while I try to finish the other one. I'm tired of looking at HFU, but I'm stubborn, and I'm going to end it if it is the last damn thing I do. This story, though, I'll be working on intermittently, because I love it with all my heart and soul.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for 182 kudos! I'm eternally grateful for your support.

It had been three days since the night of the gala, and newspapers were still freaking out, money and gossip were exchanging hands faster than you could scream “scum,” and Keith was still absolutely fucking confused about what had happened that night.

The mission was arguably a success. The Galra had evidently heard that gunshot loud and clear, because they’d lain low since the assassination. The media flare up after the murder was definitely working in Green Lion’s favor, even if it had screwed a lot of things over for the rich folks of the country. 

But what confused Keith was Pidge.

Well, it wasn’t wholly unusual. The past few months, he’d been realizing he really didn’t know Pidge at all. However, for her to completely go off the deep end and shoot at someone unrelated to the mission- at least that the other gangster knew of- was entirely risky and out of character. Despite his burning desire to know what was wrong, he’d figured there hadn’t been a way to bring it up without his leader flipping her shit. After their first confrontation, Keith had wisely kept his mouth shut and said nothing to Pidge, save for normal conversational phrases like, “Pass me the milk, shrimp.”

For the thousandth time since that night, Keith pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. The word  _ why _ bounced around in his head, but as always, he had no answer to the question. The gangster supposed if he couldn’t ask the girl herself, he could at least find out who the man was, and it might give him some clue. The other shooting victim was in some way tied to Allura Singh, so he wouldn’t be too difficult to identify. Maybe there was a news article or a blog entry that mentioned his name... 

...except Keith had no way to start looking. His phone was dead, and his charger was missing, so he had no choice but to retrieve his ancient Dell 2007 laptop and its charger from the hell that was his closet.

Burrowing into his messy storage space, Keith began searching for his long abandoned laptop. 

He pulled huge swathes of clothes out of the mountain obscuring his closet’s floor. Flinging them behind him haphazardly, the grey eyed boy started making headway into the mound. He frowned at all the things he was finding- he thought that shirt was lost, those pants definitely belonged to Pidge, what gun did those bullets even come from- oh, there was his old sketchpad! He set it aside and continued digging, finding an assortment of previously missing things, but no shiny chrome laptop.

So quietly he wasn’t sure he’d heard it at all, someone knocked on his door. The dark haired boy frowned, re-emerging from a heap of sweaters, and turned to the painted wood. It was late at night now; there was no one it could be except Hunk or Pidge.

Cautiously, Keith walked to the door and pulled it open. To no one’s surprise, there stood Hunk, who held a squirming, pissed off Pidge in his arms. She scowled and stopped kicking at the taller boy when she saw Keith. For a second, the golden eyed girl looked like she was about to say something normal, like, “Hey, Keith,” but then she snapped,

“Did your room get hit by a damn tornado? I hope you clean this shit before you trip and die on it in the middle of the night.” So she was still caustic and confrontational. Not good.

“Is anything productive going to come out of this, or can I resume looking for my old laptop?” Keith asked tiredly as they lumbered into the room behind him, kicking the door shut none too gently. Hunk deposited the tiny girl on Keith’s bed and perched on the edge with a steely look in his eyes. 

“There better be something productive. We,” he said pointedly, pausing for emphasis. “Are going to have a talk. As friends.”

“As compared to what, sentient sacks of potatoes?” Pidge grumbled sarcastically. She rubbed at one of her eyes, drawing attention to the dark bruises smudged underneath it. Clearly, she hadn’t been sleeping.

“No, as compared to gang members,” the brown eyed boy said patiently. “We have to discuss the whole botched assassination... fiasco. Thing. Mistake. But not in terms of a job, in terms of ‘maybe we need to assess our mental states, because they are Very Not Good.’”

“Botched? How was it botched?! Haxus is dead!” Pidge retorted. She ignored the second part of Hunk’s comment, setting her mouth into a pinched, angry slash. “It’s the only thing any major media outlet has been talking about the past few days, which is exactly what we wanted!”

“He said botched because you fucked up, Pidgey,” Keith groaned. “Why did you shoot at that other guy?’’

The brown haired girl glowered at him for a few seconds before her resolve crumbled. With an exhausted sigh, she flopped back into the blankets and stared at the ceiling.

“Okay, I’ll admit that it was childish and petty and put Green Lion at risk. I let my emotions get the better of me, and I’m sorry,” she recited. Keith decided to accept the apology; it sounded like she had put some thought into it, despite the irritation lingering in her tone.

“That’s fine, but what we don’t understand is  _ why _ , Boss,” he prodded gently. “We’ve kinda scrambled to cover for it already, and there are people in place to take the fall for everyone who was there. The mistake isn’t the problem. I just keep thinking about something you said that night. ‘You don’t know what he did to me! To my brother!’ It sounds like there’s something really important you didn’t tell us, but you couldn’t handle it on your own.”

“What did you mean by that?” Hunk asked. His voice, as always, was kind and soothing. Pidge turned away, huddling into Keith’s pillow. For a moment, it seemed she wasn’t going to answer.

Then her hand snaked out from underneath her body, phone held in her fingers. Keith plucked the device from her grasp and noticed it was open to a page already. He shuffled closer to Hunk and let him hold the phone so they could read it together.

It was a news article, dated December of last year.

 

**Daily Altea**

**Serving Altea Since 1874**

**_Surprise- Chief of Police’s Daughter Allura Singh Announces Engagement to War Hero_ **

**Much to the shock of Altean high society, Ms. Allura Singh is about to become Mrs. Takashi Shirogane.**

**In a public announcement on her Twitter page, Altea’s darling, notable for aiding her father, the police chief, in dangerous cases and donating several thousands of dollars to charity, let the world know that she will be getting married to veteran Takashi Shirogane next year. The man himself is no less of a champion for the US, being a soldier. Although only serving in the military for an year, he was given an honorable discharge for a severe injury sustained while saving a comrade. It cost Private Takashi an arm, though it makes him no less handsome…**

Hunk put down the phone, distaste twisting his features. “That fifth sentence sounded a bit ableist, but okay. What does this have to do with our current discussion?”

“Shiro is the man I shot at,” Pidge answered, her voice muffled by the pillow. “Keep reading.”

Keith raised an eyebrow at her use of the man’s nickname, but obediently returned to reading the article.

**We here at Daily Altea are very happy about the impending marriage, but others have raised questions about the wedding, with many of Alfor Singh’s friends skeptical about his daughter’s future husband.**

**“I assumed she would marry a nice Indian boy,” commented Ranvir Kaur, a longtime companion of Alfor. “It’s hard to mix cultures in a marriage, and it isn’t very traditional.”**

**“I don’t think he’s a bad man, what with being in the army and all, but did you know he used to be engaged to another boy? It doesn’t sound right to me that he’s suddenly in love with Allura,” said Alfor’s colleague Lukas Sendak.**

**While mildly homophobic in nature, Sendak’s comment is not untrue. Takashi was formerly engaged to astrophysicist Matthew Holt, who** **unfortunately died in a car crash a few years ago.**

Keith and Hunk shared a glance upon reading that line, which was a link. The black haired boy tapped on it, and they were taken to another page on the same site. This article was dated 2011, four years previous to the one they had just been reading.

 

**Daily Altea**

**Serving Altea Since 1874**

**_“A Tragedy for Scientific Advancement”- Young Astrophysicist and Father Killed in Car Crash, Child Left an Orphan_ **

**With much sorrow, today we must report a tragic accident that took the life of aerospace engineer Samuel Holt and his son, astrophysicist Matthew Holt. Both were noted for their work on “Kerberos: The Untold Story,” a fifty page research paper on Pluto’s moon Kerberos, and news of their deaths has greatly saddened the scientific community.**

**The scientists were on their way home from an exhibit when their car was hit by a truck. It is unclear what the cause of the crash was, but it is currently being attributed to loss of control. The truck driver, who was mostly unharmed, promptly called 911, but to no avail. Both men were pronounced dead on arrival, and their young relative, a thirteen year old girl, was rushed to the hospital.**

**Arthur Iverson, instructor at the Holts’ alma mater Galaxy Garrison, gave a moving speech at their memorial, saying:**

**“I knew both these men personally, and they were some of the brightest people I’ve ever met. NASA was lucky to have worked with them. This is a tragedy for scientific advancement- without Sam and Matt, we never would’ve considered there was life on Kerberos. Now they aren’t here to help us search for all the discoveries we have yet to find.”**

**The Holt family now has only one member remaining: Katherine “Katie” Holt, who is currently in a coma, but is expected to awaken within the next few days. We extend our deepest sympathies to her and wish her a speedy recovery.**

Following the short text was a picture of an older man, and then one of two younger individuals.

“Um, that guy really looks like you, Pidge,” Keith pointed out. He enlarged the picture of the boy and girl, who looked like they were standing in front of a rocket. Upon this closer inspection, he could see the differences between the young man- Matt, presumably- and Pidge; his eyes were shaped differently, his bangs split a different way. Still, the resemblance was unmistakable.

Pidge rolled over and glared at him with one eye. “Looking similar tends to happen among siblings, dumbass.”

“Wait, that’s your brother?” Hunk yelped. His eyes frantically darted between the iPhone and Pidge. “Or, that was your brother?”   
  
“Would you like a medal?” She asked exasperatedly. “Yes, that’s my brother.”

“Then… that’s you?” The Korean murmured, pausing to stare at the girl on the screen. She was small and skinny, not different from how Pidge’s build was now, but he had trouble connecting the two. How could this fragile looking child be someone like Pidge, who didn’t often wear feminine clothes, swore at least five times a minute, and could kill someone in less than thirty seconds?

“You guys are just like Sherlock Holmes and Watson! I told you I used to have long hair, Keith, you idiot,” the gang leader snapped. She seemed to regret her outburst a moment after it happened, pausing to relax before starting her next sentence. “Obviously, I got taller, cut my hair, and started wearing Mattie’s glasses. It makes me look almost exactly like him. Once, Nyma saw me looking at this picture, and she mistook me for Matt. Started teasing me about my girlfriend too. How the hell am I supposed to date myself?”

Neither boy had a response for that, so the trio sat in silence until one tentatively piped up.

“Okay, so this tells us about you, but not quite why you were trying to kill Shiro?” Hunk said, phrasing it like a question.

Pidge sat up and took her phone back, worrying her lip between her teeth. “It’s stupid, I know it is, but I just… I’ve been suffering over their deaths for years, and then Shiro, who was supposed to fucking MARRY Matt, is just gallivanting around with Allura like he never even existed. Like his death didn’t hurt.”

“It was bound to affect you more,” Keith reasoned. “You were there when it happened.”

“Yeah, I was fucking there! And Shiro? God knows where the hell he was or what he was doing- you know he didn’t even come for the funeral? I hadn’t heard from him or of him at ALL until I saw him at the gala, and then I did some digging and found out he’s getting hitched to this bitch like Matt never mattered to him,” Pidge spat bitterly. “I just got so angry.”

“There’s no way Shiro didn’t care about you,” Hunk consoled, moving to hug her from behind. She stiffened in his grasp, but let him continue. “There’s no way he didn’t care about Matt either. You don’t ask someone to marry you without caring about them.”

“Then why wasn’t he  _ there _ ?” Pidge gasped. Her voice cracked painfully on the last word, and she dissolved into sobs.

Keith’s heart broke. He quickly scooted across the sheets and wrapped his arms around Pidge too, crushing her face into his chest. He and Hunk carefully maneuvered their tangle of limbs down until they were curled up on the bed, Pidge held protectively between them.

It took nearly half an hour of soft, comforting words before she cried herself out. Hunk wordlessly detached himself from his friends and rushed down to the kitchen to make hot cocoa. Keith shifted a bit, so he and Pidge could look at each other. Her eyes were red and watery, her face still smudged with tears and snot. He awkwardly scrubbed at her cheeks with his jacket sleeve, making her scowl.

“That fabric is too rough,” she complained, voice rusty and hoarse. “Don’t. God, this is so fucking embarrassing. I want the void to take me now.”

“I mean, we all cry sometimes?” The biker offered tentatively. “I think you needed to let that out, since, like, you’ve been repressing it. Or something.”

“To quote Hermione, ‘You have the emotional range of a teaspoon,’” Pidge retorted. “You deal with feelings so badly, Keith, what the hell?”

“Sorry that not many people have loved me before,” he defended. “I don’t- I try not to involve myself with really sappy stuff, alright? And you don’t either! You try acting all cool and shit, but you’re an emotionally constipated mess too.”

She settled back down against his chest, huffing. “That’s fair. But Areum loved you. Hunk loves you. I love you.”

Keith blinked in confusion. “You do?”

She shoved him off the bed, cackling when he landed with a painful thump. “Yes, dipshit, of course I do. You can’t stay with someone as long as we’ve been together and not care about them. You’re like another brother. Hunk too.”

“If you love me, why would you shove me off a bed?” Keith groaned, rubbing his side. He swore he could already feel a bruise forming. “That’s not what friends do.”

“That’s what  _ siblings  _ do, and you deserved it for asking a dumbass question,” Pidge sniffed. “Also, I needed a good laugh, you gotta admit.”

“Why must your laughing be at my expense?”

She grinned wryly. “Oh Keithy boy, I  _ always _ laugh at your expense.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, Pidge wiping at her eyes and patting her cheeks until she looked composed again. She then turned to Keith with a wicked smirk on her face.

“Hey, so you said you don’t do sappy stuff, but you totally do. And I forgot one person who loves you..."  


The boy waited for her to finish her thought with mounting worry. This sounded like normal Pidge, and normal Pidge was scary and mocking and had too much fun teasing people.

“You’re always all sappy for Lance. He absolutely loves you, by the way; his texts to you are just gay as shit.”

Keith shrieked wordlessly.

Hunk returned to the room to find the Korean frantically trying to smother the hacker with his pillow. He gingerly set the cocoa on the side table and backed out of the room, deciding to leave that fight alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how was that? Not bad for waiting ages to return to this, hm? I hope you all liked it. Feel free to scream in rage at me in the comments- Lord knows I hate myself as well.
> 
> See you eventually- Blizzard out. 
> 
> *flings self off cliff*


	16. stay, part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *softly* Ha, gay!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! It's been... literal months, holy shit. In that time, my county's gone to hell in a handbasket, and I died several times over. Literally.
> 
> I wanted to update more often, but life got in the way, and so did HFU. It should be a little better from now on, though! Hopefully... 
> 
> Anyway, this is part one of two, as you can see. The next part will be even more fluff, I promise. You will also finally learn the Great Karaoke Fiasco, haha~
> 
> In the texting portion, Lance is bold, and Pidge is bold-italic.
> 
> Thanks for 200 kudos! I hope you continue to like the story this year~

Lance woke to a slew of texts rather than his alarm. As he sat up with a frown, groaning about his beauty sleep being interrupted, he groped for his buzzing phone. It was Pidge, surprisingly; Lance was expecting it to be…

Who was he expecting, exactly?

Shaking his head, Lance read the messages and blinked exhaustion out of his eyes.

The first one, he noted, was actually time stamped 4:23 AM. Lance stared at it in mild horror, beginning to question Pidge’s sanity.

**_i’m just eating peanut butter right now_ **

The newer texts, the ones that had woken him up, were no less worrying.

**_i think i ate too much peanut butter_ **

**_i feel the sweet tender embrace of death approaching_ **

**_if i don’t come to class today it’s because. death by peanut butter!_ **

**_i don’t regret it tho_ **

Rubbing his forehead, Lance responded, **pidge wtaf?**

She replied a second later.

**_look man i just rly like peanut butter, okay_ **

**_also i meant to text hunk bc he has like 12 pounds of antacids on him at any given moment but i hit ur contact by accident lmao_ **

Lance rolled his eyes. **i cant believe u woke me up for this im blocking u rn**

**_u son of a bitch i am a good person i don’t deserve this???_ **

**u r a small gremlin child sent from hell**

**_according to who, keith? i assure u, i am a lovely person. and literally when have i ever been cruel to u?_ **

**yes according to him and actually ur right! nvm pidge ily ❤︎❤︎❤︎❤︎**

**_ur forgiven peasant ❤︎❤︎ also hunk is holding a get together at his house idk if he invited u already but he wants u to come so!!!! come and get smashed and play mario kart with us!_ **

Lance grinned, ready to answer enthusiastically, but his fingers faltered over the keyboard. He looked out the door, right where Jamie’s room was.

With a heavy heart, the waiter tapped out, **id love to show up and eat all hunks food but um theres no one to take care of my little bro. and hes like A Child™ so i cant leave him alone**

**_ohh dude that sucks. maybe ask around and someone will be able to take care of him? like ur co-workers. or he could spend the night at a friends. u never know until u ask_ **

Hope bubbled up in Lance’s chest. **actually ur right hes been asking to stay over at lukes place so ill just ask his mom. thanks for giving me the idea, ur a genius**

 **_i was born with it,_ ** she answered smugly. **_anyway hell yeah it’s time to bring out the bacardi and watch keith swear at rainbow road lmao he’s fucking HOPELESS_ ** ****_  
_   
******_and tbh i’m glad u can go bc first of all hunk rly wants to spend time with u and second keith wants to spend time with u and third we’re all stressed af so this will be good_**

 **i wanted to be w u guys too** , Lance admitted, a warm feeling gathering in his chest. **i havent been w friends or had a night to myself in ages and**

He hit send too early and cursed. Pidge started to type her answer, so the blue eyed boy decided not to bother finishing.

 **_and u wanna spend time with a certain mcmullet?_ ** She said. Somehow, the tone gave him the impression of a shit eating grin.

Lance frowned in confusion. Was she insinuating something there? He liked Keith well enough, yes, but he decided he would be better playing it cool here. One wrong message, and she’d have him in a position he didn’t want to be in.

**no?? i just live for hunk’s food, this is deffo not abt keith. he’s just along for the ride, isn’t he?**

**_ooh ur grammar improved! nice!! i’m so glad u figured out what apostrophes are!_ **

**_also quit acting clueless af lol i can already tell u guys are GONE for each other_ **

Still caught up in utter uncertainty, Lance missed the last notification. When he did glance back down, three minutes later, the message gave him pause.

_“You guys are gone for each other?”_

“What?” Lance breathed aloud. He pushed the phone aside, gaping. Was she saying he liked Keith? Keith with the mullet and the depression memes and the strange love of cats?

Keith with the conspiracy theories and galaxy patterned hoodies and weird insults? Keith with the gentle smiles and affectionate “shut up, Lance” and the pretty eyes? That Keith?

 _You don’t know any other one_ , a snide voice in his head pointed out. _Who else could it be?_

Lance frantically scrolled back through every interaction he’d ever had with the black haired boy. As he flipped through albums of screenshotted snaps, lists of conversations, and 3 AM night-blogging, he came to a startling conclusion.

He’d been dropping compliments, simple things like “holy shit dude you look really good in a suit.” He’d been sending pictures with all his best angles and aesthetics. He’d been indulging rants about the moon landing being faked, of all things!

Shit. Lance did like Keith. He _really_ liked Keith, mullet and douchey fingerless gloves and all. And he’d figured it out belatedly, like every other serious realization he’d ever had. Why hadn’t Lance realized that his feelings were tilting dangerously beyond friendly? The barista had been calling him “pretty boy” in Spanish for months, for god’s sake! He could write his idiocy off as being too busy with everything else going on, but the Latino just felt blind.

 _No wonder Jamie was laughing at me,_ Lance thought helplessly, squeezing his eyes shut. _What do I do?_

Okay. So he enjoyed talking to Keith and staring at Keith and Keith in general. But Lance was a pro at crushes, especially the unrequited ones. All he had to do was hide it better.

Having resolved one issue with that message, Lance turned to the other one. Pidge had been right about his feelings, but insinuating Keith liked him? Him? Lance, the barista with had bitched out his hair and demanded he clean spilled tea like a child? The poor, abused, depressed bastard?

 **pidge pls stfu.** She couldn’t be serious; Lance wouldn’t let himself hope.

Who had ever chosen him?

**_nope ur way too easy to mock and it brings my bitter heart joy~ anyway ttyl i’m boutta throw up all this peanut butter_ **

**_see u saturday the 15th! ik it’s ages from now but it was the only day hunk’s family was out lol_ **

**bye pidge, see u then. and maybe don’t eat sm next time?**

**_u can’t stop me motherfucker_ **

The little devil said nothing else, so Lance exited the messaging app. For a second, he sat with his eyes closed, rhythmically inhaling and exhaling.

 _Don’t be a fool, Lance. You know this is all a house of cards; it could collapse with you inside it at any moment. Can you really pretend everything will be okay?_ Another little voice in his head murmured bitterly.

 _I can fucking dream,_ Lance shot back.

He swung himself out of bed and moved to start his morning routine. Today was October 4th.

There were only eleven more days until his night out.

 

* * *

 

About a week after Lance’s impromptu realization, Keith started his morning run with punk pop blaring in his ears. It was late for a run; he used to wake up at five in the summer to exercise, but now that class had started, he usually ran whenever he felt like he needed it. And right now, the poor needed to run from his boss.

For some reason, Pidge had been relentlessly teasing him about Lance. The past few days had consisted of nothing but expertly timed comments about the pair’s- nonexistent!- relationship. No matter what Keith was doing, Pidge would find a way to slip Lance into it, and it was beginning to drive the boy out of his mind. He could be washing some goddamned dishes, and the gremlin would pop up beside him and chirp something like, “You know, Lance sure likes the water, doesn’t he?”

Keith was beyond done. So here he was, aimlessly tearing down the street with a Fall Out Boy song echoing in his head. The playlist he’d picked had been almost nothing but songs from the Emo Trinity; YouTube’s My Mixes were notoriously in tune with his music taste.

...or maybe not.

Quiet strums of an acoustic guitar filtered into his headphones. Keith wrinkled his nose. This song wasn’t going to fit the pace of running he’d set, but he was too lazy to change it. Instead, he slowed his pace to match the flow of the words.

Near the chorus, the song picked up a bit, and Keith decided he might as well listen.

_Before the dark night traps me in, don’t leave me._

_Do you still love me? If you feel the same, don’t leave today._

_Don’t ask why it has to be you- just stay with me~_

_I don’t expect a lot right now, just stay with me~_

The dark haired boy stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Considering what Pidge had recently been pestering him about, this was too much.

He yanked the phone out of his pocket and hit the next track.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lance is my sweet bab, and I would die for him. I can't believe he's insecure and feels like a fifth wheel... I hope the team shows him just how important he is in the next season :(
> 
> Fun fact: the part with Pidge and peanut butter is almost verbatim from my sister's voice messages. She is literally Pidge.
> 
> EDIT: I forgot to mention something! The title, "stay," is derived from both the lyric in House of Cards and the song by BLACKPINK. And with that said, their album Square 2, which features Stay, was actually not released until October 31st. Thus, in this verse, their comeback date of Halloween was switched with BTS's of October 10th ^^ This is important to absolutely no one but fans of those specific groups, but I'm saying it anyway, lmao.
> 
> Tell me what you thought! See you eventually ❤︎❤︎


	17. stay, part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *clears throat*
> 
> Gay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy SHIT, y'all, it's been like two months? I'm so sorry... life got really rough.
> 
> So in compenstation, here's like 3000+ words of klance bein' gay. And meddling Pidge.
> 
> Thank you for 210 kudos and 109 subscribers!! I'm love you~
> 
> EDIT: I forgot to mention! In addition to Grey, this story now has a cultural beta! Solhee is here to help me write a more accurate Korean Keith- please give her the appreciation she deserves!

Over the past week and a half, Pidge had been having the time of her life.

Why? Well, ever since Lance’s implied confession, she’d taken the liberty of harassing the hell out of Keith. Of course, the girl had been doing that long before Lance had come into their lives, but now it was multiplied tenfold. Her darling Keith had a crush who returned his feelings, and she’d be damned if she didn’t mercilessly exploit this info.

Underneath her teasing, though, there was an undercurrent of hope. For so long, Pidge had watched Keith stumble through life, feeling painfully alone. It had gotten better when she’d dragged him into DotU, but she was well aware that Keith hadn’t had many people to lean on.

If Lance could be there for Keith too, the gangster would push them together, like it or not.

But first, Pidge had some vetting to do.

Pulling out her phone, she asked, **yo hunk do you still have the great karaoke fiasco video**

Hunk replied immediately,  **_of course i do!! why do we need it rn tho_ **

**when are we not embarrassing keith with it, first of all?? and second of all, it is time lance sees it. I want this shit played full screen, hd, tomorrow @ the party**

**_coming right up! still though, w h y. that’s not the whole reason, i can tell_ **

**ummm because if lance still loves keith after seeing that fucking tragedy, the romance is REAL**

**_wait, romance? LOVE?! _ **

**( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)**

**_PIDGE GET BACK HERE AND EXPLAIN _ **

The girl whistled merrily and flopped over on her bed. Keith, who was passing by, eyed her in fear.

 

The Next Day...

 

Lance was currently on cloud nine.

He’d safely dropped off Jamie and was now on his way to Hunk’s house, singing along to pop songs as he drove. His beat up car thankfully still had a decent stereo system, and he was using it to broadcast his good mood like a beacon.

It didn’t last as long as he’d hoped.

To Lance’s irritation, a motorcycle suddenly shot past him, going way above the speed limit. Lance cursed and drifted to the far right, hoping that no one was racing the bike. Unfortunately, a matte black car sped after it. It was blasting Sandstorm at an absurd volume.

“What the fuck is this, Grand Meme Auto?” Lance glared at them through his windshield, praying he wouldn’t run into them again.

Imagine his surprise when he pulled into Hunk’s driveway only to see the speed demons hopping out of their vehicles.

“I win,” Keith said haughtily, setting his helmet on the bike’s seat. Pidge looked at him, seething, and then dove back into her car. A second later, a song blared: “Fuck you! Fuck you very, very much!”

“So mature,” the biker drawled. “I’m very impressed.”

Lance screamed wordlessly and exited his Altima. “What the hell is wrong with you? You almost ran me over!”

“Shit, that was you?” Pidge answered, poking her head out of the Toyota. “Sorry, sorry, we don’t pay much attention when we’re racing!”

“You shouldn’t be doing that in the first place,” Lance cried. He waved his arms around pointedly. “You could hurt someone!”

Keith winced. “Sorry?”

“Y’all need your licenses suspended.” The Latino shook his head. “Whatever; let’s go in before you kill someone else.”

The gangsters exchanged a glance behind his back. Hunk arrived a few minutes later, his arms full of Wal-Mart bags, and welcomed them inside.

 

-

 

To Lance, Hunk’s house felt like home the minute he stepped in. He gratefully flung himself onto the couch and stuck his leg into the air dramatically. Hunk, who was used to seeing this behavior from high school Lance, simply walked past him and deposited his groceries in the kitchen. Pidge and Keith, meanwhile, gave him matching looks of confusion.

“Sometimes you just gotta stick your leg out,” the barista explained. “The night is young, and I’m dramatic, anyway.”

“Okay, then,” Pidge nodded indulgently. “Before you get comfortable, Keith, go buy drinks.”

Keith pouted petulantly. “Why me?”

“Because I said so? I need a vanilla Crown Royal, any type of vodka, and… Hunk, what do you want? Shock Top?”

“Yeah, that’s the one,” the Hawaiian replied. “Don’t bring too much, though- I can’t explain that to the family.”

“Fine,” Keith muttered. He hopped off the stool he’d been perched on and started walking to the door.

Lance yelled, “Don’t run anyone over, asshole!” as the other left. He received a rude gesture in response.

The second the door swung shut behind Keith and they heard a motorcycle peeling out of the neighborhood, Pidge and Hunk cheered.

Lance raised an eyebrow. “Why do I suddenly feel like there’s some specific reason you sent Keith to get drinks?”

“Well, he does know this guy at the liquor store on Loewe that usually never cards,” Pidge answered flippantly. “But on the off chance he gets paranoid and does card, Hunk and I would get arrested. He panics every three seconds, which is obviously suspicious, and I frequently get asked if I’m in middle school when I’m walking down the damn street. Semantics!”

Hunk stepped into the living room and added, “We also wanted to show you something that he probably wouldn't be happy about.”

“Whoa, dude, I don’t need to know, like, his dark life story. He can tell me that on his own terms,” the blue-eyed boy said, nervously holding up his hands.

“What the hell? No, it’s a meme! Literally, a meme!” Pidge exclaimed. “Do you remember that thing back in 2015, the ‘when you’re waiting for MCR to come back’ photo?”

“Um, I think so? The one with a guy in a Black Parade shirt, holding a bottle of wine upside down and screaming into it?”

“Take a wild guess who that was,” Hunk snickered.

Lance’s eyes went wide. “No.”

“Yes,” Pidge crowed. “And we have the full video of that, hereby dubbed ‘The Great Karaoke Fiasco of 2015!’”

Hunk held up his laptop and an HDMI cable. “It’s in high definition!”

A few minutes later, Hunk had plugged his clunky HP into the TV, and was trawling through a huge folder of pictures and videos. Pidge and Lance had curled up on the couch with a box of Goldfish, like they were watching a riveting cinematic masterpiece, and both listened cautiously to make sure Keith hadn’t come back.

The burly boy suddenly frowned. “Hey, I can’t find it. What did we label it?”

“Incoherent Keysmash #1, otherwise known as ‘asdghfdkg,’ which I put in because I was laughing my ass off. Mm, there, I see it! Right under the purple aliens thing!” She pointed at the screen, obviously trying not to laugh. “Hoo, I remember that. It was glorious.”

“Wait, what’s the Purple Aliens Monologue labeled as? No, never mind, I see it- it’s the one called ‘he gOT STUCK IN A FUCKIGN TREE,’ right?”

“You right.”

Lance looked back and forth between them in confusion. “Purple… aliens?”  
  
“Keith does some weird shit when he’s drunk. Like, really weird. He has a good alcohol tolerance until the depression hits, and then everything goes to hell. We can show you the alien thing after this,” Pidge answered, patting his arm. “Fuck, it’s starting! Watch this shit!”

His attention hurriedly snapped to the screen.

The camera wobbled slightly, and distinctly, someone could be heard laughing. The view traveled up, until it focused on a skinny boy in ripped black jeans and a giant Welcome to the Black Parade shirt. He was in tears, clinging to a huge, green bottle.

Now that Lance stared at it, he knew without a doubt that it was Keith.

“What do you mean MCR’s not coming back,” Video Keith whined. “They can’t be gone!”

“Buddy,” a girl in the background snorted. Lance realized after a moment that it was Pidge, sounding much younger. “They broke up years ago; they’re not coming back any time soon.”

Keith gasped violently. “You’re lying!”

“I’m sorry, dude,” Video Hunk chimed in. “Pidgey’s right. They broke up in 2013.”

“I’m gonna fucking summon them,” he answered vindictively. “Right now!”

“How are you going to summon the- holy shit, Keith,” Pidge cut herself off with a burst of disbelieving sound as Keith climbed atop the table. He turned the bottle upside down, dumping at least a quarter of the alcohol out, and started to sing.

“When I was a young boy, my father took me into the city to see a marching band,” he wailed, only slightly off key. Video Hunk and Pidge outright exploded into giggles, which caused the present pair to laugh.

Lance laughed himself to tears as Keith worked his way through the entirety of the song, getting progressively sloppier as each lyric drew by. Finally, the screen went black, likely the product of the camera being dropped into a puddle of alcohol. Pidge tipped the last of the Goldfish into her mouth, still cackling.

“He’s such an emo,” she said. “I don’t even know why. Who hurt you, Keith?”

Suddenly, Pidge found herself with a paper bag covering her head. Lance shrieked like a child and scrambled off the sofa, taking refuge behind Hunk. Keith was standing behind them, an annoyed scowl on his face. _He definitely broke the speed limit again to get back so quickly,_ Lance thought. _How fucked is that?_

“ _You’re_ gonna get hurt if you keep showing that dumbass video to everyone we know,” the black-haired boy hissed. Upon closer inspection, Lance realized Keith’s face was flaming red.

“Aw,” he cooed. “Keith’s embarrassed~”

Keith flipped him off.

Pidge yanked off the bag, balled it up, and threw it at the boy’s face. “How dare you try suffocating your leader! The fucking disrespect-”

“When did I ever respect you, gremlin,” Keith responded. He ruffled Pidge’s hair a little too violently to be considered friendly. “Anyway, shut up before I break your bottle of Crown Royal!”

“You leave my good whisky alone,” the girl snapped venomously. “My good, precious whisky that I work every day for.”

“You barely do _shit_ -”

While they were bickering, Hunk hummed innocently and dragged his cursor up to the aliens video. Lance caught his eye and started egging him on, wanting to see more of this highly amusing, drunk Keith.

Unfortunately, the boy in question noticed and growled, “Put on the fucking alien thing, and I’ll set your kitchen on fire.”

Hunk gasped theatrically. “You wouldn’t! There would be no one to feed you if I couldn’t cook! You guys can make three dishes combined and two of them involve peanut butter!”

“The man’s right,” Pidge bemoaned. “We need him.”

“Okay, terrible cooking skills aside, it’s fucking hilarious that you’re so into aliens. Like, did you watch too much Ancient Aliens as a kid? Did you go out hunting for Area 51 on weekends?” Lance teased. “Do you have the cryptid website bookmarked?”

“Aliens are real, and the moon landing was faked, and I believe in Mothman,” Keith rattled off. He started to say something else, but was cut off by Pidge flinging her hand over her forehead and singing,

“Mothman is real and he sucked my dick behind a 7/11~” Hunk accentuated the line with an air guitar riff, and Keith sputtered incoherently.

Lance started laughing again, nearly overcome with sudden affection. He hadn’t had this much fun since he was a child; everything that had happened forced him to grow up too soon. Being the serious, working parent of a little kid had taken its toll on him. Now, his stress had dissipated, his shoulders felt lighter.

He was happy.

“Fuck you guys, I’m outta here! Grey Goose doesn’t do me like this,” Keith scoffed, making to leave the living room. Lance scrambled off the floor and tackled him, wrapping his arms around the shorter boy’s waist.

“You’re not going anywhere, Red,” he chirped, oblivious to the way Keith stiffened at the nickname. “You sit here and suffer through social interaction like a preppy kid!”

“I hate you so much,” Keith groaned. “Why are you like this. Why do I talk to you.”

“You love me,” Lance sing-songed, dragging Keith back to the sofa, where they flopped in a heap next to Pidge. “Hunk, my man, my bro, my hero! Put on the Mario Kart!”

“Sure thing,” Hunk grinned. “I’ll send you the aliens video later!”

Keith sneered at him and tried squirming out of Lance’s grasp to attack. The Latino tightened his embrace, not quite thinking of the implications of it until he noticed how their bodies were pressed together. Pidge seemed to have figured it out too, because she began to wiggle her eyebrows ridiculously. Lance mouthed “Not a fucking word!” at her over a head of fluffy black hair.

After a minute of futile struggling, Keith gave up and settled in Lance’s hold. The absurdity of the contact didn’t seem to register in his mind, since he made himself comfortable on the other’s chest. Hunk placed a hand over his heart like a proud mother and booted up his Wii.

Lance resigned himself to his fate: death by cute boy.

 

-

 

After five rounds of intense racing, where Lance won three times (Pidge blue-shelled him the other two, which he maintained was unfair), Hunk got up to make food.

“I have this new lasagna recipe,” he said excitedly. “I’m so ready to try it- I think it’s gonna be really good!”

“I’ll help,” Pidge stood abruptly and bounded over to him. “Teach me how not to fuck up pasta, I beg you…”

“Once she made a Stouffer’s lasagna and then dropped the whole thing on the floor,” Keith informed. He looked more than a little vindictive. “She cried over it.”

“I just wanted a nice dinner,” she whispered, staring off into the distance. Lance smirked at her.

“Boy, you probably live off ramen and peanut butter. Literally anything other than that would be a five star meal for you.”

“Don’t call me out like this,” the brunette wailed. “I tried so fuckin’ hard, okay, I really did. But the tray was hot, and it fell, and I was just so _tired_ -”

“You’re incompetent,” Keith deadpanned. “There were oven mitts in the damn drawer! You could have just used them! But noooo, you insisted that you could hold the tray, and you got first degree burns. And we lost so much food!”

“Drag her,” Lance cheered.

“Both of you are shitty friends. I’m leaving with Hunk; he’s not fucking fake like y’all,” Pidge sniffed haughtily. She put her hand in Hunk’s like a princess and marched off to the kitchen.

Keith and Lance shared a glance and high-fived.

“What do you wanna do while they’re cooking?” Lance asked after a moment of comfortable silence. “Like, should we watch a movie?”

“I vote we break out the alcohol.” Keith answered immediately.

Lance pretended to wipe away a tear. “A man after my own heart. The only fifty shades of grey I want are Goose.”

“So you’re saying you don’t like trashy romance novels?” Keith replied, batting his eyelashes. “With such riveting lines like ‘He started working my zone. It was bananas.’”

“Why the fuck do you have that memorized?” Lance grumbled. He went behind the sofa and picked up the bottles that Keith had set there prior to suffocating Pidge. One bottle of plain Grey Goose, a vanilla Crown Royal, and a single Shock Top greeted him. “Also, who the hell sold you one beer bottle? Don’t these literally come in six packs labeled ‘not sold individually?’”

“The guy who runs that liquor store is really weird,” Keith said. “Like, he’ll sell any random combination of things in any quantity. The only reason I bought one was because Hunk’s the only one who drinks Shock Top, and he doesn’t drink a lot. He usually hauls me and Pidgey home when we get wasted.”

“Bless him, honestly.”

“Who, the liquor guy or Hunk?”

“Both. You wanna drink the vodka outta the bottle, or should I go ask for shot glasses?”

Keith considered for all of two seconds. “The bottle. Let’s be fucking heathens,” He pulled a Swiss Army knife from his pocket and popped it open. “Cheers.”

“I’m putting on music,” Lance stated. “Give me your phone- I wanna see your emo playlists.”

“Are you ever gonna let that go? Like, is there any chance you’ll forget about it without a concussion, or should I break out my baseball bat?”

“I won’t forget it til the day I die,” he intoned. “Now gimme it, and let’s start drinking!”

“It’s barely ten, and we haven’t had dinner, you know. It’d probably be stupid to drain the whole bottle,” the black haired boy cautioned, hesitantly passing over his phone.

“Look, buddy, Pidge promised me we’d get smashed and play Mario Kart. We’ve played the game; the alcohol’s next. And it’s only the 375ml bottle, anyway, not the liter,” Lance wheedled. He tapped in Keith’s password and pulled up YouTube. With luck, it opened to a playlist, and Lance happily started blasting The Offspring’s “You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Fine, take the damn vodka.”

From the kitchen, Pidge sang along with the music. Hunk joined her at one point, and they harmonized together. Keith threw in a pretty impressive rendition of 21 Pilots’ “Holding On To You” a few minutes later. As the alcohol drained, the world became pleasantly fuzzy and muted. Lance felt even lighter now, and when “Dance, Dance” came on, he grabbed Keith by the hands and pulled him off the couch.

“What are you doing?” Keith asked, looking exasperated. “Don’t tell me this is one of your dumb ideas.”

“It’s just dancing! You can’t not know how to dance,” Lance replied. He swayed from side to side in an attempt to coax Keith into moving. “‘I’m two quarters and a heart down, but I don’t wanna forget how your voice sounds~’”

Keith winced at his off-key singing, but he smiled all the same, joining Lance in dancing. “‘This is the way they’d love if they knew how misery loved me. Dance, dance,’” he chimed in eventually.

 _Well, misery loves_ me, _that’s for sure_. Lance thought. But the notion depressed him, and he took another drink.

A slower song came on, one that began with the strums of an acoustic guitar. Keith wrinkled his nose. “You listen to half a song one time, and it keeps popping up…” He went to skip the track, but Lance caught his wrist.

“Wait, it sounds kinda cute. I wanna hear the cute emo shit!”

The grey-eyed boy looked at him like he was stupid. “It’s not emo. It’s a love song.”

Lance was renowned for never keeping his mouth shut when he was buzzed, and this was no exception. “Then you have to dance with me for this too!” Immediately after the words left his mouth, he had to resist the urge to flee the room. He held back his embarrassment by focusing on the song, which he eventually realized wasn’t even in English.

“Wait,” he said slowly, taking Keith’s hands again as they swayed to the beat. “What language is this?”

“Korean,” Keith replied. He seemed entirely unruffled at being so close to Lance; the taller boy resented it. “It’s some new girl group song- I clicked on it by accident once, and now it won’t leave my depressing music alone. You know how jarring it is to go from ‘Anthem of the Lonely’ to this?”

“What’s it mean?” Lance couldn’t stop himself from asking.

Keith waited until the chorus to start translating. “Before the dark night traps me in, don’t leave me. Do you love me? If you feel the same, don’t leave today. Don’t ask why it has to be you- just stay with me. I don’t expect a lot right now, just stay with me…”

The Latino almost tripped over his own feet. Keith pointedly didn’t look at him.

“It’s not like me at all, but you asked for it, so. There you go.”

The song ended, and they dropped each other’s hands. Lance regretted ever asking about the ballad. Keith tried to get his heart rate under control. Both of them were blushing.

Neither noticed their friends watching them from the nearby kitchen.

 

* * *

 

Neglecting the fact that she was a hardened gang leader and younger than them, Pidge clutched her chest and swooned, “Young love~”

Hunk leaned in, whispering, “I bet twenty dollars they’ll end up together by the end of the month.”

“You’re on!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to all songs I ripped off, lmao.
> 
> Speaking of songs, the very last one in the dancing scene is still BLACKPINK's "Stay." However, there's one tiny difference in the lyrics written here and the lyrics written last chap that changes what Keith is saying. See if you can find it~
> 
> Man, I'm weak for klance dancing.
> 
> Choice words from my beta: liek mudkipz
> 
> Tell me what you thought!! See you next update, in which the violence marches right back in!


	18. Interlude- HUNK'S Most Beautiful Moment in Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually not dead, y'all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *waves madly* Hi! It's been approximately 84 years, I know. Life is rough, but luckily, HFU is barreling toward its end. Soon this fic will get the love it deserves once more.
> 
> I'd like to thank you not only for 237 kudos and over 120 subscribers, but also your patience! You're the best.
> 
> So here's Hunk being a cutie. His age in the beginning is open to interpretation, but rest assured he is short and smol. Definitely in elementary school. It's short, I know, but there's only so much I can do with cooking without getting hella technical about shit I ain't even know.

_ Hunk pouted at the countertop. It was too high for him to reach, which put a wrench in his plans. He had wanted to bake cookies for Mother’s Day all by himself, just so it would be more special, but if he couldn’t reach the counter… _

_ Following a moment of deliberation, he went looking for a little stool he could stand on. After searching the bedrooms and playroom, he decided to try the garage. Sure enough, there was one sitting under a bucket of paint. Hunk triumphantly grabbed it and tottered back to the kitchen. _

_ Now he had another problem. Where could he find a saucepan? The boy used the stool to clamber onto the counter and poked his head into the cabinet. Plates, bowls, glasses… but no saucepan. _

_ “Whoa, kiddo, why are you standing on the counter? You could fall,” a voice said from behind him. Hunk shrieked in surprise and toppled backwards. He would have hit the ground quite painfully if he hadn’t been caught by strong hands. _

_ “See? What am I gonna do with you?” Nahele, Hunk’s father, sighed. “What were you trying to do?” _

_ After recovering from his shock, the child proudly showed him the recipe that had been shoved in his shirt pocket. “I was gonna bake cookies for Mama! I found all the ingredients by myself an’ everything!” _

_ His mispronunciation of “ingredients” was so cute that Nahele had to take a minute and remind himself he was supposed to be a stern father. _

_ “That doesn’t explain why you were standing on the counter, though.” _

_ Hunk fidgeted. “I was looking for a pan. You have to put it on the stove and then melt the ingredients on it.” _

_ “That’s a little above your pay grade, Hunk. You can’t even reach the stove yet,” The older man admonished. “What would happen if you burned yourself?” _

_ “But I wanted to make something special for Mama!” _

_ “You still can, but how about I help you? It’ll be easier, right?” _

_ Hunk considered. “Oh… okay. Is it still special?” _

_ “Of course it is. In fact, now it’s  _ doubly _ special, because there are two of us,” Nahele said warmly, pulling the saucepan out from a cabinet near the stove. “Alright, kiddo, where’d you put everything?” _

_ The child went to the fridge and pulled out a stick of butter and milk, which he’d moved earlier to the bottom shelf. Then he walked into the pantry and lugged out the giant canister of oats. He nearly tripped doing it, but eventually he presented it to his father.  _

_ “Oats? Why- oh, these are those ‘no-bake’ cookies, aren’t they? Smart. Got the cocoa powder?” _

_ “It’s next to the sugar,” Hunk chirped. “On the third shelf.” _

_ “Alright. Now, here’s the plan. You mix everything, and I help you out with the dangerous stuff, like dumping it into the hot pan. Sound good?” _ __  
_  
_ __ “Like a… chef’s assistant! And I’m a chef!” 

_ Nahele beamed. “Uhuh. Just like that.” _

_ The father-son duo suffered a burn or two, and certainly had a few mishaps with mixing, but it was worth it to see Nani’s huge smile. Of course, despite her happiness, she chased them with a wooden spoon until they had scrubbed every last trace of cocoa and sugar from the tiles. _

_ It still didn’t tarnish the memory. _

 

-

 

Years later, the budding chef stood before another counter. This time, his assistant was none other than his violent friend, and the people he was to serve were not his mother, but rather a squabbling couple.

Hunk smiled down at his lasagna. Beside him, Pidge anxiously peered at the bubbling cheese.

“Is it okay? Did I make it radioactive?”

He laughed. “It’s supposed to do that, Pidge. It’s just hot; I promise.”

She let out a huge sigh of relief. “Okay. Cool. Keith already told y’all what happened the last time I tried to make a lasagna. I cried myself to sleep that night.”

“Trying to grab it without oven mitts was a bad idea, honestly,” he replied, reaching to the cabinet with the plates. It seemed like only yesterday when he couldn’t reach it without help. “Anyway, you wanna call Keith and Lance?”

“And interrupt their gay mating dances? Nah, son. I’ll wait for them to smell the food and come running.”

The burly boy laughed and started setting the table, leaving the girl to flit around the kitchen, cleaning. Lance screamed from the living room, and seconds later, there was a thud that sounded suspiciously like Keith hitting the floor. Hunk blinked in surprise.

“Are they okay?”

Pidge rolled her eyes. “Wait for it. Keith will start screaming in rage now.”

The aforementioned boy did indeed start screaming. Lance choked, presumably on vodka, but perhaps it was just air.

“What a clusterfuck,” Pidge sighed. “How are you putting up with this?”

“Well, they’re my friends, aren’t they? And it would be a shame to deprive them of food.”

She patted him on the arm. “You’re too good for this world, Hunk. Too good.”

A shy smiled curved Hunk’s face. It only grew wider when the boys finally arrived and clustered around the table with Pidge, all complimenting the cooking. 

His father would be proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this listening to Dreamcatcher, which is only weird because some of their songs are super dark. Like... they killed a man, y'all. Killed him dead. (Well, technically, they trapped him in a mirror, but he might as well be dead, right?)
> 
> I have made no bake cookies before. They were really sweet. I dunno how I feel about them.
> 
> See you soon, hopefully! I have the next chapter started, so we'll see when it gets finished. Finals week is coming, so I have so much shit to do.


	19. it'll collapse soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a me, Blizzard!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me, in the shower: isn't Voltron nice...
> 
> me, washing my face: hey, don't I have a Voltron fic?
> 
> me, lowkey crying from shampoo in my eyes: I should give the people what they want!
> 
> So, hi, it's been a billion years. I don't really have an explanation. But I didn't give up! Here I am! Ruining lives and shit!
> 
> I just want to say thank you for sticking with me so long. I hope that we'll make it to the end!
> 
> Thank you for 288 kudos!
> 
> Side note: I have not seen past S2 of Voltron (I have watched all of Bones, all of Rizzoli and Isles, and 3 seasons of Law and Order: SVU in the time I haven't updated, though...) so forgive anything that isn't caught up with all of that...

The man’s eye was twitching. With a furious exhale, he whirled on the woman at his side.

“‘My plan will produce results,’” he mocked. “‘His head will roll.’ And yet that little brat has made fools of us once more!”

His fist slammed into the table hard enough to jolt the items atop it. “Haxus is dead! One of my lieutenants is dead, and it’s thanks to the incompetence of your plan!”

The woman winced. “Haxus's death is unfortunate, but we did begin chipping away at their territory due to the murder of those runners. Several of them have been given ‘messages’ for stepping into our territory. If you give me more time, I can also create a drug that will outsell Fantasia-”

“I’m done giving you time,” he spat. “We are going to send them a proper ‘message.’ The mole has told you where Rolo stores Green Lion’s shipments, correct?”

Visibly startled, she answered, “There are two places. Warehouse 13 in the abandoned sector, and a storage unit.”

“The warehouse should have more… have Sendak take some of his pawns there and raid it. We’ll profit off everything in there. Then burn the storage unit to the ground. The loss will leave the Lions reeling.”

The woman’s lip curled. “This is reckless. You’ll just anger K. You know he has the money to buy more, anyway.”

“Of course he has the damn money. But this leaves clients without their fix, and needy junkies are angry ones. They could well lose good business in the time it takes to restock. And of course,” he said with a bitter chuckle, “they’ll miss out on their sales.”

“I can’t stop you,” she sighed. “But I will soon be done with the prototype of Quintessence. It should be more addictive than heroin.”

He waved a hand at her dismissively. “Do what you will. The runners can take it around whenever you finish.”

She began to leave, but the man stopped her at the door. 

“Do find a way of killing that boy called Gold. A lieutenant for a lieutenant is only fair, isn’t it?”

 

* * *

 

Lance woke up on the floor.

He was halfway sprawled across the soft carpet and partially propped up on something with a very, very odd shape. Muttering to himself, the barista got up and realized the oddly shaped object was in fact Keith.

For a minute, he just stared. Then he decided it was too early in the morning for a Bisexual Freak Out™ and excused himself to the restroom.

Lance splashed water on his face when he was done with his business and winced at the state of his... everything. The bags under his eyes needed to be put in checked luggage, and he had several patches of skin threatening to break out. It wasn’t the first time he’d mourned the loss of his skincare routine, but now that he was regularly interacting with people again, it seemed worse. Whatever. He didn’t have the time to care.

When he entered the living room again, Pidge was perched on the back of the sofa like a gargoyle. She turned to face him and growled,

“Coffee. Now.”

"Morning, sunshine."

"Coffee!"

“You realize that in order to make coffee, I need to know where it is, right?” Lance asked wryly. The girl growled again and made shooing motions toward the kitchen.

Lance raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow (hey, he’d at least managed to snatch tweezers before he ran) and went on a hunt for coffee. He found some instant powder (gross, but usable) in a cupboard and set about boiling water. The kettle had just gone off when Hunk joined him.

“Morning. Did the coffee demon wake you?” He asked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

Snorting, the barista shook his head. “No, I just ran into her when I came out of the bathroom. Also, what happened toward the end of last night? It got real fuzzy after the 13th round of Super Smash Bros.”

Hunk wearily glanced at the ceiling. Lance followed his gaze and gaped when he saw a trio of bullet holes in the plaster.

“What the hell? Are those-”  
  
“Yup. Oh, and I have video. I will show you before I delete the evidence and go on a mad hunt for someone to fix that before my parents kill me,” Hunk replied. He let Lance deliver Pidge her coffee and then settled on the couch with him, his phone open to the gallery.

A video, much like the Great Karaoke Fiasco, started playing. Lance squinted at the screen while the camera stabilized and eventually managed to pick himself out. He was on the coffee table, headbanging wildly with the empty Grey Goose bottle in his hand, and Keith and Pidge were jumping on the sofa. The background music sounded distinctly non-English, but the beat did go off. He approved, but...

“Dude, I don’t see how this ended with bullet holes in the ceiling.”

Hunk whimpered. “Just… keep watching.”

At a certain point, Pidge suddenly screamed, “Just like you’ve been shot! Bang, bang, bang!” before whipping a gun out of her jacket and firing wildly. The beat dropped immediately after, and Lance squeaked.

“Wha- how did we not get arrested for this? Also, why did you even have a gun?!”  
  
“Silencer on the gun,” Pidge said casually, apparently having returned to her normal gremlin state. “Also, I disabled Shotspotter around this area for… reasons. I am sorry, though. I’ll totally pay for the repairs.”

“With what money?” Lance asked, noticing that she'd declined to answer the last question. “Aren’t we all broke bitches?”  
  
“I am slightly less broke,” the girl clarified, tipping the last dregs of her drink into her mouth. “And I feel bad.”

“It’s fine,” Hunk said. “Keith put a hole through my bedroom wall with a baseball bat once, remember?”  
  
From the floor, Keith grumbled, “You told me to swing and I swung. Wasn’t my fault Pidge made me miss.”

“First, how fucking long have you been awake, and second, why were you swinging baseball bats?” Lance said, thankfully suppressing a childish scream of surprise.

“I woke up just now because I heard BIGBANG and was reminded that their clothes are really fucking ugly,” Keith said. He sat up, rubbed the drool trailing from his mouth, and continued, “And it was a physics experiment these nerds were running. Something about the force required to break bones with different objects, I think.”

“So… you were hitting each other?”

Hunk shook his head frantically. “No way! It was one of those models Hodgins is always using in Bones!”  
  
“Those words mean nothing to me, I hope you realize that. I'm more of a CSI guy.”

“It was not alive, and it was for the science,” Pidge summarized. “Now, Hunk, feed us.”

“Yes, Your Majesty, whatever you say,” Hunk sassed, but he traipsed into the kitchen anyway.

Lance felt himself smiling. The day was shaping up to be decent, for once.

 

* * *

 

Pidge had been having a pretty good day until a runner meekly came to tell her that her warehouse had been torched.

She lifted her pawn off the ground with one hand in an uncharacteristic show of rage, hissing, “What the fuck do you mean, we lost everything?”  
  
Gasping for air, the runner croaked, “I noticed… smoke from a fire and went… to see… the whole thing… is ashes… I’m sor-”

Pidge dropped her and speed-dialed Keith. She was too shocked and furious to notice the girl scrambling away. When he picked up, she started babbling, “Keith, have you heard-”

“The warehouse is gone, I just saw the nightly news,” Keith replied. He sounded frantic, as did the grunts panicking in the background. “It’s an estimated loss of millions; the amount we have in storage isn’t enough to cover us-”

“I want you to find whichever Galra piece of shit did this and gut them like a fish, understand? I’m setting up a meeting with Rolo to get new product,” Pidge snapped. She ran to a drawer and began hunting for a pen and paper. Pinning the phone between her ear and her shoulder, she started scrawling calculations, trying to figure out precisely how much trouble they were in.

Before Keith could answer, her phone started beeping, telling her someone else was calling. Pidge ripped it from her ear and saw it was Hunk. With a frustrated huff, she answered.

“Hunk, I love you, but if your news isn’t good news, don’t bother-”

A ragged noise interrupted the gang leader’s tirade. She paused in concern- it sounded like a sob. “Hunk?”  
  
“Pidge, my house… my house was bombed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there it be. It's small, but I'm trying to get back into the swing of writing this and being involved in the fandom. Thank you again for your patience.
> 
> Random notes:
> 
> The song playing when Pidge shoots the ceiling is BIGBANG's Bang x3. They really do have some ugly ass looks in their vids, by the way. (But they're still lit!) In the same vein, Shotspotter is a US only thing, as far as I know, and is used by law enforcement to track gunshots.
> 
> Bones is a crime show that ran for 12 seasons on Fox. Hodgins is a character that's basically the typical mad scientist, and beats up gel dummies to calculate force profiles quite frequently. I love my mans. :')
> 
> Hunk got wrekt because a while back, I was speaking to a mutual who reads this and they suggested this. Blame them >:)
> 
> And, uh, I'd like to say that I was inspired to write this by a long, rambly review that was just really sweet. Thank you, random commenter! You helped save this fic.
> 
> See you next level! More disasters are on the way!


	20. if you're with me, i'm okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW for IADA-typical violence, homophobia and transphobia culminating in child abuse, and mention of suicide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *peeking out from behind a wall* oh, hello...
> 
> I've found myself pretty inspired lately, so here I am. With more angst.
> 
> Thank you for 292 kudos! Please heed the warnings- that content is mainly centered in the last scene of the chapter and I'll explain it privately if need be.

Shiro walked between rows of warehouses, Allura by his side. They came to a stop in front of what had once been another warehouse, but was now little more than a pile of ashes and charred timber. Police and FBI agents surrounded the area, all in various states of confusion and anger.

“Why is the FBI here?” Shiro asked her. Allura shot a distasteful look at the agent in charge and sighed.

“This was a Green Lion warehouse. They’re suspecting Galra raided and burned it as part of their ongoing turf war. Because of the scale of those gangs’ drug trade, the FBI has to be involved.”

Shiro hummed. “They’ve crossed state lines, then. Or are they shipping internationally?”   
  
“Both,” the white haired woman groused. “Stay back from the bits that are still smoking, by the way- those fumes are toxic.”

Shiro dutifully stepped back, and Allura gave the wreckage another once over. With a shake of her head, she said, “We should leave. I just wanted to see what was happening in person, so I could tell Father, but I don’t want to get in the way of the federal government. Especially not when that prick Whitehall is here.”

“What did you do?” the veteran asked, amused.

Affronted, Allura placed a hand over her heart. “Why do you assume I did something? What if he did something?”   
  
He merely stared at her. After a moment, Allura mumbled, “I may have tripped him down a flight of stairs for insulting the Altea Police Department. But only one time.”

Shiro started cackling, causing Allura to smack his arm. She flounced off to the car, leaving him behind to collect himself. He sobered quickly when he thought about the warehouse, and the ongoing gang war destroying Altea. Everyone knew it was only a matter of time before things got out of control.

He was quiet the whole way back to the station.

 

-

 

When they arrived at Altea’s police department, they saw that the remaining officers were flitting around, clearly on edge. Allura stopped the nearest pair of detectives.

“Did something happen?”   
  
Shuffling a batch of paperwork in her hands, the first detective replied, “There was a bombing in a residential area. No one was hurt, thank God, but the family is rattled.”

“Their home is destroyed,” her partner added. “We’re already working the hate crime angle- they’re the only people of color in the neighborhood, and no one else’s house was touched.”   
  
“This, so soon after the warehouse clusterfuck?” Allura scowled. “Well, no matter. Treat it with the importance that it deserves.”

She turned to leave, but the other woman stopped her. “Miss Singh, about the fire in the abandoned sector…”

“Yes?”   
  
“Preliminary forensics and witness reports are showing that it happened around the same time as this bombing. And-”

“-her gut says they’re connected,” the man finished. “I don’t see why, but after 12 years as her partner, I’ve learned to trust her instinct.”

Allura pursed her lips. “Look into this family. If they’re involved with the Lions or with Galra, we’ll know. But be discreet about it. We don’t want to tip any of the gang members off.”

The detectives nodded and exited the station, leaving Shiro wishing they’d just slept in for once.

 

* * *

Darkness fell swiftly in Altea, and as soon as the light of the sun ceded to the artificial lamp lights, Pidge met Keith. She had a bag of tricks looped over her shoulder, and walked carefully to manage the weight. He raised his head to look at her, his dark, glittering eyes the only thing visible above his mask.

“What do you have?”   
  
“Molotov cocktails, a few grenades, an AR-15, and a chemical concoction I whipped up myself. You?”

“Flash bangs, just to be safe, and bricks of C4. My usual gun and knife, too. Where are we heading first?”

Pidge grinned and pulled up her own mask, her sharp teeth glinting before being obscured. “I know just the place. Come with me- we don’t have that far to walk.”

The building they ended up in front of was dingy and unassuming. It proclaimed itself an antique shop, and displayed a few strange curios in the windows. One was a doll with wide, pale eyes that followed them when they walked.

“How much you wanna bet that’s a camera?” She asked, tilting her head to stare at the creepy object. “Galra are fucking freaks.”   
  
“I’m betting so much, I’m not even gonna ask if this is the right place,” Keith said. He picked a chunk of concrete off the sidewalk and tossed it up and down in his hand, trying to judge where he should throw it.

“Why bother?” Pidge spat, voice tinged with malice. She pulled his gun from its holster and shot through the window, blowing off half the doll’s head in the process. An alarm began to wail, and she lazily tossed the weapon at him.

“That’s one way to do it,” he remarked, snatching the gun from the air. “Anything else we’re gonna do before waking up the whole city?”

“Give me a damn minute,” the girl huffed. She swiftly unpacked her bag and ‘mixed’ a Molotov cocktail, which she flung through the shattered window. It exploded into flames in the center of the showroom floor. Seeing as most of the building’s interior was wood, it didn’t take long for fire to consume the store.

“Is this enough mayhem for you?”   
  
“Of course not,” Keith said, firelight flickering over his skin. “But the night is still young.”

Pidge smirked and started to run. When Keith fell into step beside her, she chirped, “The next place is 13 minutes away. Shall we break out the C4?”

“Oh, I thought you’d never ask.”

 

* * *

Lance set a mug of cocoa and a bowl full of arroz in front of Hunk, settling onto his crappy couch a minute later. His friend had barely moved since he’d come over, and the barista was hoping to coax him into at least eating or drinking something.

“Buddy, I know this is awful, but you gotta take care of yourself. If you won’t let Nani mother you, I’m going to.”

Hunk outright flinched at the mention of his mother, and continued keeping his silence. 

Not for the first time, Lance wondered why the hell the burly boy wasn’t with his family. Shortly after he’d gotten the news that Hunk’s house (the house he’d just been in two nights ago, holy shit) had been bombed, he’d frantically sought out his old friend. Upon their meeting and Lance’s subsequent freak out, Hunk had followed Lance back to his shitty apartment instead of staying at a hotel with his family.

He’d also been dissociating on the couch for the past few hours, which Lance could definitely call a Big Mood™, but it was more worrying from Hunk than a depressed bastard like himself.

“Eat something,” Lance prodded, leaving to check on Jamie. When he returned, he saw that Hunk’s phone was buzzing with a call from Pidge, which he didn’t seem too inclined to pick up. Well, Lance would do it for him, then.

The word “hello” was barely out of Lance’s mouth when Pidge started babbling. “Hunk, where are you? I hacked into Hampton Inn’s records and found your family, but when we went there, they said you were gone. You better be alive-”

“Whoa, calm down, Green Bean. He’s with me,” Lance reassured. “I’ll give you my address- or, wait, are you with Keith? He’s been here before; he can probably find his way back.”

“Okay- wait, why do you have Hunk’s phone?”   
  
Lance cast his friend a glance before shuffling out of earshot. “It was ringing, and he wasn’t about to answer it. He hasn’t spoken or moved in the time he’s been over. I think you probably should come talk to him, if only because he won’t say shit to me.”

Pidge swore softly. “He’s blaming himself. What an idiot. Don’t worry, okay? We’ll be there in ten minutes, and you and Keith can, I dunno, do something gay while I straighten the big guy out. Bye!”

The call abruptly disconnected, and Lance was left staring at the screen, bewildered.

 

* * *

The pair of gangsters knocked on Lance’s door shortly after. Lance opened it a heartbeat later and squinted at them. His scrutiny made Keith wince.

The two of them looked like they’d been through a war zone, and he knew it. Both of them were distinctly ruffled from running around all night. Their clothes smelled like smoke and whatever chemicals Pidge had been flinging around. Pidge’s hair looked like several rats had taken residence, and the band that had been keeping his mullet in a ponytail had fallen out a long time ago. All in all, they weren’t stepping on runways any time soon. 

“Where is he?” Pidge asked, barging into the apartment. As she passed, Lance stared at her face, which was streaked with soot.

“On the couch- also, what happened to you two? You look like you joined a fire brigade.”

Keith grunted and pushed his bangs away from his face. Lance’s confused gaze focused on his scraped knuckles, which something Keith had been hoping to avoid, but it couldn’t be helped. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s leave; those two have to have a private conversation.”

Lance blanched. “Okay, are you fucking kidding? You know this is my house, right? You can’t just kick me out!”   
  
“Except I am. Like I said, don’t worry,” Keith said, grabbing Lance’s wrist and pulling him out into the hallway. “There should be minimal damages, if any.”

“Damages?” Lance squeaked, but the biker was already dragging him to the elevator.

On the way down, Lance seemed to remember his brother was still in the apartment. “Hey, tell them to take care of Jamie, would you? He’s a nightmare if he doesn’t get enough sleep.”   
  
“He’ll be okay,” the black haired boy said dismissively. “They don’t have a reason to bother him.”

“If you say so,” Lance muttered. He let Keith lead him outside, to where the night was dotted with stars. “Hey, are you gonna tell me what the hell happened to you guys? You seriously look like you were at ground zero of an explosion.”   
  
“Oh, there were several explosions,” Keith mumbled under his breath. Louder, he said, “It’s probably better if you don’t know.”

“That just makes me want to ask more questions, but whatever. Where are we going?”

Keith shrugged. “For a walk, I guess. We’ll stop wherever looks nice.”

Lance chewed his lip thoughtfully. “There’s an empty lot over there. They’re supposed to be developing something on it, but until then, it’s been a decent place to have a breakdown in peace.”   
  
“You have special places for breakdowns?” Keith asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Doesn’t everyone?” Lance said flippantly. “Here, I’ll show you where it is.”

The lot looked like it had seen better days. The uneven ground was littered with shale and broken beer bottles, and if Keith squinted, he could see the moonlight glint off needles. It was a teenage party spot, then. Disgusting.

Lance perched on an upturned bucket and wrapped his arms around himself. “It’s fucking cold out here. Why’d you have to drag me outside?”   
  
“Pidge and Hunk had to talk privately, damn it,” Keith groused. “Trust me, I don’t wanna be out here either. It’s been hours since I’ve felt warm.”

As if he’d never said anything, Lance complained, “It’s freezing!”   
  
“Oh my god, shut up,” the biker snapped. He took off his own jacket, balled it up, and threw it at Lance. It landed over his head. “There, now quit whining.”

The other boy stared at the jacket like he didn’t know what to do with it, then sheepishly slipped it on. “Thanks.”

“Whatever,” Keith replied. He found a clear patch of ground to Lance’s left and settled down.

The pair were silent for a moment. Keith took the time to breathe and sort out his thoughts. He and Pidge had torn up half the town with their explosions, and gotten into one or two fights along the way. His hand still ached from cutting it on some thug’s teeth, and Pidge had been trying hard to hide a limp for the last two attacks.

He was startled from his meditation by Lance murmuring something to himself. “Huh?”   


“I was looking at the stars,” he answered. “I just- I don’t know. I wanted to be a Garrison pilot for a long time, so I used to spend hours staring at the night sky and wondering what other planets might be like. I guess I wanted to be there rather than where I was.”

Keith watched him carefully. Lance seemed to be on the verge of revealing what Keith had been wondering all along: what the hell had gone on in his life to make him run away? Cautiously, he asked, “Why?”

Lance huddled deeper into his borrowed jacket. Keith opened his mouth, ready to apologize for prying, when the barista started speaking again.

“My parents were… not the best. At first, things were fine. Then my little brother decided he’d rather be my little sister, and they changed.”

“You’re talking about Rosa,” Keith realized. “She was-”

“Trans, yeah,” Lance said. He blew out a breath. “They told her all these awful fucking things. That it was unnatural, that it was a phase. Finally, I snapped and told them I wasn’t straight, you know, trying to show support. They turned on me too.

“We weathered it out for a few months, but then they started treating Jamie like trash. Like we were rubbing off on him somehow, turning him into a ‘freak.’ But he was a kid! There was no way for him to know what was going on…

“So Rosa and I started making plans to run away. We stole money, a little bit at a time. Had a list of places that would take us in and jobs that we could do, all of that. And then, a few days before we were going to run, she got into a huge fight with my parents. I still don’t know everything that happened, or what they said. That night, I went to her room afterward, trying to convince her that we should leave early.”

Here he paused to gather himself. Unconsciously, Keith shuffled closer to him, hanging off his every word.

“I found her on her bed. I thought she was asleep at first, but… she wasn’t. She’d taken a whole bottle of Mom’s sleeping pills. It was still in her hand, empty.

“I lost my fucking mind. I don’t remember packing anything, or picking up Jamie from his bed and leaving. I just know that when I woke up the next day, I was far, far away from there. And I know I can’t go back.”

“Lance, I… I’m so fucking sorry. I can’t believe they would do that.” Keith said. He was unsure of how to properly comfort the other boy, and he wished he were better with words.

“I think the worst part is that for most of my life, they were good people,” Lance said bitterly. He swiped at his eyes, adding, “They took me to a therapist and bought me antidepressants when I felt like drowning. They indulged my excessive skin care routine. And then it all fell apart.”

“If they treated you and your sister like shit for something like that, they were never good people,” Keith said fiercely. “I’m glad you got away. And that you took Jamie with you.”

“Mhm,” he mumbled. He clambered off his paint bucket and stood, scrubbing his face with his sleeve. “I guess we’ve reached Level 5 friendship. You unlocked my tragic backstory.”

Keith laughed in spite of himself. “This isn’t a video game.”

“You don’t know that,” the Latino replied, sticking out his tongue. “Let’s go back home. I always want cocoa after a good cry.”

“Okay,” Keith acquiesced.

If their fingers tangled together during their return, neither of them mentioned it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anything else, I just want to say that if anyone is facing homophobia/transphobia at home, I know it's hard. But it is not forever. One day, you'll be free of your family, and you aren't obligated to forgive them.
> 
> 40% of homeless youth are LGBT. Please also consider donating to shelters and charities on their behalf.
> 
> SInce the election, there's been a lot of anti-LGBT (and other minorities) rhetoric. It's been pretty shitty, but we're going to keep fighting, okay?
> 
> Now that I'm off the soapbox, whoomp, there it is! On the plus side, klance development! (20 chapters later...)
> 
> So, where will our kiddos go after this? Only time will tell~ 
> 
> See you next time!


	21. in front of my eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunk, exit stage left!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this while absentmindedly mumbling Twice's Signal, which has absolutely nothing to do with this, but here we are.
> 
> Anyway, here it be.
> 
> Thanks for 304 kudos, but my guys, my dudes, not even one comment? I know y'all are busy, but at least drop me an "it gucci" or something. Authors aren't asking for AP analysis essays, you know. We just want to know you're still... there.

Waking up was a lot like swimming through molasses.

Lance grumbled to himself as he opened his eyes. He wasn’t even sure why he’d awoken until he realized that A) someone was sprawled on top on him, and B) his phone was screeching. He flailed enough to dislodge the other person and grabbed his phone.

What he saw nearly made his eyes pop out of his head. “Oh, fuck!”

Lance was late. He was so, so late. He was supposed to drop Jamie off ages ago, and the phone call he’d just received was from his boss, rightfully asking where the hell he was. Stumbling over the other person- and oh, great, that was Keith- he picked up the phone.

“Lance? Where are you?” His boss asked.

“I am so sorry, there was an emergency with a close family friend,” Lance babbled. It wasn’t really a lie, was it? Hunk was a friend who’d had an emergency! “I just forgot to call; it will never happen again, I promise-”  
  
“Calm down,” his boss said. “I already called someone in to cover.”

Lance caught his breath. “Oh… okay. Again, I’m really sorry, Boss.”

“It’s fine, Lance. To tell the truth, we were more worried about you than angry. Take the day off and watch over your friend, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you. Bye,” the barista said, hanging up. He collapsed back on the couch, feeling like he’d just run a marathon.

“You good?” Keith asked from the floor. Lance looked at him, seeing that he’d propped himself up on one elbow and was scrubbing drool off of his cheek with his free hand.

“Yeah, I just got a call from my boss. All that shit from last night wore me out so much I slept right through my alarms. So I missed my shift, and I guess Jamie just isn’t going to school today.”

“Nah,” someone said from behind them, “I took him.”

Lance spun around and saw Pidge. Her hair was messier than usual, and in her hands was a chipped mug of coffee. She sauntered over to the boys and plopped onto the couch.

“I hope you don’t mind. I kinda had to hotwire your car to do it.”

“Hotwire- why?!”

The brunette shrugged. “I couldn’t find the keys. Or, wait…” She dug underneath the cushions and pulled out Lance’s key ring. “Never mind, I found them.”

“A little late, there,” Keith said wryly. “Where’s Hunk, Birdie?”

“Still asleep. Someone should probably wake him up,” Pidge said. “Hey, I heard y’all got off work. You wanna go out?”

“And do what?” Lance asked.

“Eat something. You don’t have jack shit in your pantry, you know. Also, it would help cheer Hunk up.”

Lance frowned. “Speaking of which, what did you guys talk about last night? Did it help him any?”

“He was feeling guilty over the attack, even though it really wasn’t his fault. I just convinced him it was no one’s fault but the perpetrators,” Pidge said offhandedly. “I hope it helped.”

“Cool,” Lance said. “I’m gonna go shower. You and Keith probably should too, considering you look like disasters.”

“What, all at once?” Pidge quipped. “I don’t think I wanna be in the middle of you two, but alright.”

Keith took off his shoe and threw it at Pidge, his face an impressive shade of red. “Shut up, you demon!”

“I’m going to leave before something gets broken,” Lance decided. “One of you wake up Hunk.”

Lance slipped into the bathroom and shed his clothes mechanically. His emotions had been all out of whack since last night, when he’d relived everything that had happened before he’d run away, but the whiplash from his recent freakout had just made it worse. He needed a minute. Or ten. However long he could hide in the shower without using up all the water.

He stood under the frigid spray of the shower and shut his eyes.

Eventually, Lance stepped out and ducked into his room, where he changed and made an attempt at laying out clothes for the others. The fight he could overhear suggested Keith was going to end up showering next, so he tossed a black shirt and ripped jeans onto his pillow. As an afterthought, he added a beanie. Pidge and Hunk, who were completely different in size from him, were just going to have to fend for themselves.

Keith finished his shower and stepped into the room, spare towel wrapped protectively around him. Lance took the opportunity to vacate the premises and tidy up Jamie’s room in the process.

_Brat. Every time I tell him to make his bed, he ignores me. I’m yelling at him so hard when I pick him up… Also, shit, those stickers are peeling. They better not take any paint with them._

“Lance? Who the hell are you talking to?”

The blue eyed boy turned around and blanched when he saw Keith. _I’m screwed. So screwed._

Because Keith looked _good_ in his clothes. He wasn’t that much shorter than Lance, nor was he broader, so he ended up looking like a very soft hipster. The slightly too big sleeves and beanie were adorable on him, and Lance had to turn away to avoid staring like a fool.

“I dunno, the ghosts,” he said when he got his brain to work again. “Are Pidge and Hunk done?”

“They’re both raiding your closet. Wanna go wait for them, or are you going to continue your Buzzfeed Unsolved audition?”  
  
Lance let out a huff of surprise. “Shut up, man.”

The pair didn’t have long to wait before the others emerged. Lance had to laugh at how ridiculous they both looked. Since Pidge was much smaller than him, she was drowning in one of his hoodies (to the extent that she’d just forgone pants and used it as a dress). Hunk, meanwhile, had filled the shirt he was in to bursting and put his old pants back on.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh at the fun-sized girl. Where do you wanna go?” Pidge asked. “I don’t feel like anything fancy.”

“Bitch, are we dressed for fancy? No. We’re going to McDonald’s like the assholes we are,” Keith retorted.

“Damn, you’re right,” Lance replied. “Now give me my keys, gremlin- I’m seen you drive and you aren’t touching my car again.”

 

-

 

“Hey, you think we’ll get attacked by pigeons if we sit outside?” Hunk asked after they’d acquired their food. “The ones around here are kinda wild.”

“There’s a pigeon right there,” Keith deadpanned, pointing at Pidge. She flipped him off and shoved half her sandwich in her mouth.

“If I get taken out by a pigeon, that’s really how I go,” Lance said. “Also, suspicious man with gun, 12:00. He’s not actually doing anything with it, but I’m freaked out nonetheless.”

Pidge squinted at the other patron. “Oh, he’s arthritic. I could outshoot him if it came to it.”

“Seconded,” Keith said, munching on his fries. “But we could leave if you want.”

“I think we should leave on the grounds that I don’t want you to play Wild Wild West in this goddamn restaurant,” Lance said.

Hunk nodded quickly. “Fantastic idea. Let’s go to the park nearby. There will be more of Pidge’s kind there, but we’ll survive.”

“I hate you both.” Pidge informed them.

The group walked to the park and settled underneath a tree with their food. Keith downed half of his soda in a gulp and asked, “So how ‘bout them Mets?”  
  
“Who?” Hunk said blandly.

Keith shrugged. “Listen, I didn’t know how to start a conversation after we awkwardly fled a McDonald’s because Lance was concerned about a shootout.”  
  
“Considering I recently saw a video of Pidge blasting a ceiling to hell, I think it’s a valid concern!” Lance retorted.

“That’s not even in the top ten list of weird things I’ve shot at, but go off, I guess,” Pidge said.

“Oh, yeah, there was that one time with the bags of co- uh, product- and the rat,” Keith remembered. “Or the other time with the wayward drone that stole your hat.”

“I maintain the wonky programming on that thing was Huang’s fault and not mine,” Hunk said. “I didn’t tell it to spill coffee all over Iverson’s head, either, but guess who had a grudge and a pet project? That’s right, Huang!"

“You guys are wildin’,” the barista said, shaking his head. “Are all the people at the Garrison like this?”  
  
“All the cool ones,” Pidge sniffed.

Lance was about to answer when a young boy, no older than fifteen, ran up to them. He was visibly panicked and almost tripped right over Keith’s outstretched legs in his rush to reach Hunk.

“Gold,” he said, panting, “they’re going to arrest you. You have to get out of here, now!”

Pidge suddenly sat up straight, frowning. “How do you know this?”  
  
“Remember your triangle drone thing? You told it to bug the police station. This morning, Tara was reviewing the audio and she heard Chief Alfor’s daughter tell her detectives to look into the family. Fast forward to today, and they’re ordering his arrest for information pertaining to the Lions.”

“Rover is a pyramid,” Pidge said absentmindedly. Then the rest of the boy’s words caught up to her and she blanched. “Get him to Shay. Tell the old Balmerans to disappear the family, now!”

“Whoa, what’s going on?” Lance asked, looking between Pidge and the boy.

She ignored him. “Which car did you come in?”  
  
“The modified one, the one you guys were working on last month.”

“Good, it’s super-turbo charged. Hunk, get out of here.”

Hunk was already getting up, looking pained. “I kinda expected this to happen… I was hoping for more time, though.”

“I know. I’m sorry I lied and told you everything would be okay,” Pidge said quietly, standing to hug him. “I’ll fix this, though. Promise.”

Keith stood and cuffed Hunk on the shoulder. “We’ll take care of things for you. Thanks for everything.”

The boy led Hunk away. At the last minute, the engineer turned and spoke to Lance. “I know none of that made any sense, Lance, but just know that I was thinking of you when you vanished and I’ll think of you now. I'll see you later if I don't die, dude.”

They went over a hill and faded from sight. After a solid minute of silence, Lance turned to his remaining friends and said, “What the actual fuck just happened?”

 

* * *

 

Taking a deep breath, Allura looked at the little slip of paper Thace had given her one last time. Considering an entire family of suspects and a shitton of buildings had gone up in smoke, they honestly had nothing else to lose. Therefore, what she was about to do wasn’t that absurd. She looked up at the polished wooden door and pressed the doorbell before she could talk herself out of it.

The young man who opened the door blinked at her, somewhat confused.

“Who are you?”

“Lotor Kumar, I’m with Altea Police. May I come in?”

Lotor pressed his lips into a thin line, but stepped back to allow Allura into the apartment. As he led her into the sitting room, he looked over his shoulder, asking, “What is this about?”  
  
“Nothing you did,” Allura assured him. “I actually want to talk about your parents, if I may.”

Lotor snorted. “Why? I haven’t spoken to them in years.”

“So you’re unaware of their… operation.”

Lotor froze. It was only for a millisecond, but Allura noted the stiffening of his shoulders. When he sat down, his eyes were cast in shadow. She took a seat across from him and waited for him to say something else.

“Okay, fine. I know about their ‘business.’ But there’s nothing I can do about it. When we parted ways, they told me if I opened my mouth, I’d be killed.”

“I know this is hard, but can you please tell me more? It’s important to our ongoing investigation. APD will offer you protection if you need it.”

Lotor tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. “Before I say anything else, just tell me this: how the hell did you even realize who I was, or who I was connected to? I changed my name and moved halfway across the city.”

“There’s an informant in Galra. I don’t know how he knew about you, but he passed on the information when I asked for any leads. He didn’t think it was relevant before. Now, I think it’s more important than ever to understand the people in the gangs, rather than just their crimes.”

“Talking like that, you should be a lawyer. Fine.

“I was twelve when my parents, Honerva and Abdul, lost their jobs. The biotech company they worked for had to lay off a lot of members thanks to some internal fiasco. I was too young to understand any of it, but I know after they were let go, my parents changed. They became bitter and twisted. My mom was up late working on formulas, and my dad was gone almost all the time.

“One night when I was sixteen, I walked in on them cooking meth. I panicked and threatened to call the cops. Dad pulled a gun out and pistol whipped me. He told me that if I wasn’t loyal to the family, I could get out. Either that, or he’d kill me. I’ve been on my own ever since.”

Allura said, “I’m sorry, Lotor. I can’t imagine something like that.”

“Yeah, that’s because your parents aren’t sociopaths,” Lotor said, standing abruptly. “Is that all? I have work to do.”

“One more thing. Do you know anything about Green Lion?”

Lotor sighed. “I’m not involved with those things, but I’ve tried keeping tabs on Green Lion. I guess it’s out of some pathetic hope that they won’t kill my parents. Even though they’ve turned into monsters, I don’t want them to die. Wait here.”

The men went into another room. When he returned, a slim journal was in his hands. He flipped through the pages until he found what he was looking for, and then he passed the book to her.

The pages seemed like they came out of a child's scrapbook. An assortment of information was scrawled onto the paper; names, dates, statistics. Most of the writing was clustered around a polaroid photo.

Lotor started speaking while Allura read. “The leader’s name is K. He’s really young, can’t be older than twenty. He shot the old leader in cold blood and had his right hand off the other lieutenants. Since then, he’s maintained an iron grip over the gang.”

But Allura was only half listening. Prying the photo off of the page, she asked, “Can I keep this? There’s someone I want to show it to.”

“Sure,” Lotor said. “There’s nothing I can do about it, anyway.”

“You were really helpful, Lotor. Thank you so much,” Allura said gratefully, standing to leave. “I’ll owe you from now on, okay?”  
  
Walking her to the door, the man answered, “If you say so. Hey, if you manage to arrest my parents, can you ask them a question?”   
  
“What is it?”   
  
“Ask them why the hell they did this.”

Allura blinked. “Why they founded Galra?”

“Yes!” Lotor snapped. “Why would they do that, when they could’ve joined any company they wanted, or started their own? They were pioneers in their field! I just… I just need to know.”

“If I find out, I’ll tell you,” Allura promised, stepping out the door. “Goodbye, Mr. Kumar.”

Before she drove off, she started a video call to Shiro. He picked up, and she shoved the photo against the screen.

“What- Allura, who is that?”  
  
“I was hoping you’d be able to tell me,” Allura said grimly. “His name is K. He’s a gangster. Looks an awful lot like your old fiance, doesn’t he?”

The photo she’d taken from Lotor showed a picture of a boy wearing a tailored suit. He was turned away from the camera, but his wild brown hair was unmistakable.

“That’s not Matt,” Shiro breathed. “Matt was taller than that.”  
  
“Then who is this? Matt didn’t have a brother, did he? There weren’t any cloning trials in his science experiments?”   
  
Shiro shook his head. “There was no one. No one but Katie.”

“Shiro,” the woman started, “you can’t be suggesting-”  
  
“It was a possibility that she joined a gang. I was looking into it; you know that.”

“If what you’re saying is true, then Katie Holt is a killer, Shiro! She’s the leader of Green Lion!”

The man closed his eyes. “Then we have to find her fast. Before she does any more damage. Before it’s too late.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In universe background: Shay and the Balmerans were a smaller, mob type organization that the Lions swallowed up. They're pretty high up in the Lion's hierarchy now, because Pidge likes them. The reason they're good at disappearing is because in the show, they spent a hell of a lot of time hiding from the Galra in those tunnels.
> 
> "Suspicious man with gun" is someone my friends and I saw and ran from while we were at Sonic. Don't you just love America.
> 
> Lotor cameo! Sorry if he's horribly OOC. I don't know jack shit about how he acts in the reboot. Also, he and his parents are also Indian, because I say so.
> 
> If something in this chapter seems wonky, it's because I wrote it at 12 AM. Sorry.
> 
> See you later~


	22. insecure again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fallout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *yeets in* hello folks, guess who isn't doing what she should be? That's right, this bitch.
> 
> So, this is really short (like the shortest fucking thing I've ever posted for this shitshow), but it's a transitional kinda thing. We're entering the final arc of the story now, lads! I hope you're ready for the peak suffering that's a'coming.
> 
> Thanks for 318 kudos~

Lance was frozen, unblinking, as he waited for an explanation.

Keith went rigid, suddenly aware that he, Pidge, Hunk, and the runner had had an audience.  _ No, no, no, _ he thought.  _ This isn’t how I wanted him to find out! _

“It wasn’t any of your business,” he heard himself say, “it was better that you didn’t know.”

Lance backed away. “No, shouldn’t I know what my friends are up to? Especially if it’s fucking  _ illegal _ ?”   
  
Pidge flinched and looked at Keith like she expected him to have an answer to that, but he was even worse at navigating conversations than her. Silence ticked by for a few, agonizing seconds.

“Wait,” Lance said, causing their attention to snap back to him. “Shay, you said Shay.”   
  
“What about it?”

“Shay works for Green Lion. The gang,” Lance hissed. “Which means you do too!”

“What? How did you know she-”

Keith suddenly remembered that he was supposed to tell Pidge about seeing Lance with the runner who supplied prescription drugs, Alyssa, but he’d forgotten after her abrupt murder. Shay must have been the one who told the barista where to find her. He nudged Pidge and she abruptly fell silent.

After a pause, she admitted, “We don’t just work for the Lions. We lead them.”

Lance paled. He turned to Keith, clearly hoping to hear a denial, but whatever he saw in the gangster’s face confirmed her statement.

“I can’t believe this,” the Latino spat, “What the fuck-”   
  
“Lance, we can explain,” Keith pleaded, trying to catch his sleeve.

Lance ripped his hand away. “No! You’re- you’re criminals! Leave me alone!”

Pidge made a tiny, pained sound, just like she’d been shot. “Lance, please don’t…”

“I’m going! Don’t talk to me again!” Lance snapped. He turned and practically ran back to his car, abandoning both his food and his friends.

For a moment, Pidge and Keith were still. Then, in a small voice, Pidge said, “We need to go. The cops might catch up to us.”   


“Yeah,” Keith whispered, still in shock.

Together, they gathered the evidence of their presence and threw it away before starting to run again.

Some time later- it could have been minutes or hours- they slowed to a stop. Keith looked around, panting. The streets were unfamiliar, and he couldn’t tell if he was really lost or if the shock was interfering with his ability to think.

“This is Galra territory,” Pidge said suddenly. She ran a hand through her her hair, the sadness in her eyes turning into something wild and unhinged.

Keith knew what she needed.

He needed it too.

Later, when they were stowed away in an alley with blood spattered over them and bodies at their feet, he told himself things were better this way.

 

* * *

Lance curled up in bed, shaken. The day had drawn to a close, and he had been buried under his covers, his phone clutched in his hand. For hours, he’d obsessively searched for Green Lion news. The top result was about a recent series of bombings. After that was an assassination, further down lay a spree killing.

He remembered, then, how wrecked his friends had looked when they’d come to the door last night. The streak of soot on Pidge’s temple. How Keith had muttered, “There were several explosions” under his breath. 

He remembered Pidge pulling out a gun and drunkenly firing at the ceiling. Saying, “I could outshoot him if it came to it.” with grim determination.

He remembered Hunk saying goodbye.

Lance squeezed his eyes shut. How the hell couldn’t he have noticed this? One of the first times he’d seen Pidge, she’d been threatening a woman at the coffeehouse. He’d known through talks with Keith that he was easily riled and often resorted to violence to solve his problems. Of course they were capable of being gang leaders.

But they were also capable of kindness. Of laughter and fun. Pidge had made sure he’d come to their party. Keith had consoled him after he’d shared his fucked up past. How could he compare these images? They were like oil and water- they didn’t mix together.

His phone buzzed, startling him out of his reverie. It was Pidge. 

 

* * *

Pidge was curled up on the sofa, a bag of frozen peas pressed against her left eye. Her whole body ached from the fight she and Keith had thrown themselves into, but she wasn’t too concerned. Her focus was on her phone, whose screen was open to the texting app.

She’d said, **if u want to blame someone blame me**

**i’m the one who dragged them both into this**

**they never would have gotten involved if i hadn’t made them**

**just please don’t blame them**

For a moment, she thought Lance was going to ignore her. Then her phone let out a quiet  _ ding! _

**_Leave me alone. You ALL kept this from me and you ALL put me in danger. And not just me, but my fucking brother too._ **

Oh, god, he was angry enough to use proper grammar and punctuation.

**lance please we didn’t tell you because we wanted to keep you OUT of danger, you were never supposed to get involved!**

**_Too late! Now fuck off!_ **

**_The worst part about this was that I was actually starting to_ **

Lance either hit send accidentally or cut himself off. Whatever the reason, he didn’t message her again.

Yes, Pidge’s whole body ached. But that wasn’t the reason she was crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No weird references this time, so there's that. 
> 
> Spot the parallels between this chapter and C21 with earlier chapters!
> 
> Anyway, comment, even if it's unrelated. Like, tell me about Infinity War. Who cried in the club?
> 
> I definitely did when [REDACTED] died :/

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me how it was, or throw things at me- whichever works. I'm always thirsty for feedback.
> 
> EDIT: Tumblr redacted. No one has done anything- don't worry! I just have a bit of paranoia. If you want, you can privately ask for it in the comments~
> 
> EDIT: Turns out fic: iada is not the best tag (it pulls up a lot of random posts, half of which are in different languages), so I'll try fic: twtw (w_s). (No, those are not random letters; the lyric the title is from is Korean, and that's the acronym formed by the actual words. Is it long? Yeah. Is it kinda annoying? Oh, hell yeah. So if you draw or write anything, by any chance, please let me know on here!)
> 
> See ya!


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